


A Place Not Far From Here

by Chemical_Pixie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, Deathly Hallows Mystery, F/M, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Harry Potter Next Generation, Morally Ambiguous Character, Mystery, Star-crossed, Two timelines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical_Pixie/pseuds/Chemical_Pixie
Summary: The hunt for the Hallows. The disappearance of James Potter. The power of The Cause.For Amelia Fortescue, time is running out. She must find her place before it is decided for her, and the consequences may very well carry her to the brink.
Relationships: Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, James Sirius Potter/Original Female Character(s), Susan Bones/Michael Corner
Kudos: 6





	1. The Final Hallow

**Author's Note:**

> This story has my bridge back into fic. Originally posted on HPFF, moved to HPFT, and now posting here!
> 
> Told in split timelines. Past timeline = past tense, present timeline = present tense.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought this one was lost.

The owl evaporates in a puff of smoke.  
  
The two owls, who are sitting on my open window sill, screech before taking off in fright. I numbly hold onto the envelope, which moments ago was tied to a tawny owl, a third and unexpected arrival in my daily owl post. The swirls of smoke fade as they float towards the ceiling.  
  
I glance down at the envelope, pondering. Whatever is inside, it cannot be good. But after everything that has happened, I don’t suppose it can make things be much worse.  
  
Carefully, I tear the wax seal and peer inside. For a split second, I think it’s a cigarette lighter, but it happens to be a small, rectangular box. There’s no note.  
  
Gently, I pull the box out of the envelope and hold it in my hands. Why would someone magick an owl in order to give me this?  
  
Something shifts inside as I turn the box around. Sighing, I slowly open the lid.  
  
“For the love of Merlin!” I gasp, putting the lid back on and dropping the box onto my desk. My stomach twists in knots as I glance fervently around my room in disbelief.  
  
“Amelia?” Aunt Susan knocks on my door and pops her head inside. “Have you had breakfast yet? I’m about to head off to the Ministry.”  
  
“Yes, yes,” I say, recovering. I use my edition of The Daily Prophet, today’s first owl, to cover the box. Aunt Susan notices my reach towards the sealed envelope, which was delivered by the second owl, on my desk.  
  
“What’s that?” she asks. “Is it--?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Well then! Open it!” She comes fully inside my room. “Michael! Amelia got her results!”  
  
Several clanks come from downstairs. I know that Uncle Michael, Eddie, and Helen are coming from the breakfast table. I keep my face neutral as I slip The Prophet and the box into my bag.  
  
“About time! When the kids got their Hogwarts letters a few weeks back, I was starting to worry about the N.E.W.T.s…” Uncle Michael lingers in my doorway as Eddie and Helen push their way into my room.  
  
“I didn’t know this was a Corner family show,” I mutter.  
  
“Oh, Amelia, come on! You already got one N.E.W.T. from last year in--”

“Okay, okay. I’ll open it,” I say. I take several deep breaths to settle my racing heart. I would rather not talk about the one N.E.W.T. that I earned in my sixth year at Hogwarts. Lifting the envelope for a dramatic effect, I slowly open the seal.  
  
“Well?” Aunt Susan prompts, sitting on my bed and hugging Eddie in anticipation.  
  
“Huh.”  
  
Aunt Susan immediately appears behind my shoulder after casting Eddie aside.  
  
“Mum!” Eddie huffs.  
  
“Wow, Amelia, wow,” Aunt Susan breathes. “You’ll get a decent job at the Ministry with these! Everyone, listen to this. O’s in Transfiguration, History of Magic, and Herbology--Neville and Hannah will be thrilled-- and E’s in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Arithmacy, and Charms--oh, honey, these are really good, concerning.”  
  
“Concerning what?” I ask. I let her have my results as Uncle Michael and Helen come over to see them.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Aunt Susan says as her signature look of concern etches onto her face. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. I just wanted to highlight your achievements despite--”  
  
“There’s no despite!” I insist loudly as I shoulder my bag. Again, my heart thumps wildly in my chest. My tone becomes calm. “I know that you are all concerned about what happened at the funeral, but as I’ve told you before, I’m fine. I only had met him once before, so I never really knew him--”  
  
“We aren’t talking about your father, Amelia,” Uncle Michael says sternly. “We’re talking about--”  
  
“Listen,” I interrupt. How many times must they talk about this? “That was almost six months ago. We hadn’t been dating when it happened. I don’t know why you think an expired Hogwarts relationship would distract me from achieving good N.E.W.T. scores.”  
  
Aunt Susan and Uncle Michael frown at each other. Helen and Eddie suddenly are interested in the rug at the foot of my bed.  
  
“I’m going to be late to Ollivander’s,” I say. “Good-bye.”  
  
I leave the Corner’s alone in my bedroom as I rush downstairs. Grabbing my traveling cloak, I walk into the back garden, so I can Apparate to Diagon Alley.  
  
“Good morning, Miss Fortescue,” Ollivander says as I enter his shop. The old man lifts a trembling hand in my direction. “I was thinking I was going to miss you today.”  
  
“I’m here, Mr. Ollivander,” I say as I hang up my cloak and bag in my work cubby. “I wouldn’t dream of missing today, especially with all of the new Hogwarts students coming this week.”  
  
“Pine wood, eleven inches with dragon heartstring,” Ollivander murmurs as he watches me put on my apron.  
  
“You still remember,” I tell him, flashing him a kind smile. Though his body has become frail, his mind has remained impeccably sharp.  
  
“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Miss Fortescue. Your grandfather, who owned that ice cream shop before the Second Wizarding War, had redwood, twelve inches, dragon heartstring. An ancient wood for someone so knowledgeable… The Second Wizarding War got him, I’m afraid…”  
  
“Yes, I know,” I say quietly, linking my arm through his. It seems like our minds are stuck in the past today. “Tell you what. You manage the counter while I get to cataloging the upper shelves today. I’ll even let you pick out the music station on the wireless...”  
  
As soon as I have a spare moment in the shop, I go into the utilities closet to breathe in the darkness. N.E.W.T. scores and Hogwarts baggage aside, my mind focuses on the tiny box hiding securely in my bag.  
  
Who sent it to me? I have a few ideas, and they all link back to The Cause.  
  
Why would they send it to me? My stomach lurches. It could be a message. It is a message.  
  
It’s happened. They’ve done it. Maybe. Probably…  
  
I give a shuddering sigh and grasp onto the mop for support. They want me to check. They want me to…  
  
No. I won’t give them the satisfaction.  
  
But it would answer so many of my questions.  
  
If I am to do what they want, then I would be playing into their hand. What could have they accomplished since the funeral?  
  
Why do they want me to see that they’ve finally killed James?

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
I could trace this back to the first few weeks of my fifth year at Hogwarts. At first, he was mad at me. Before then, we had only known each other as acquaintances: different houses, different years, different social circles. What connected us was Neville Longbottom. James’ parents were friends with him, and my cousin and legal guardian, Aunt Susan Corner (nee Bones), was friends with this wife, Hannah. But after using my authority over James, everything changed.  
  
It was late, and I had missed dinner because I was in the library before prefect’s rounds. On my way back to my common room, I stopped by the kitchens for a quick snack. Someone was already there.  
  
“Good evening, miss!” squeaked a few house elves. “Can we get you something to eat?”  
  
“Well, if it isn’t a prefect out after hours,” taunted a voice by the fireplace. I turned my attention to the boy standing in the shadows.  
  
“Potter?” I asked, frowning. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“Same as you, I’d expect,” he grinned widely as he stepped into the light. He took a bite of his pastry. His brown eyes reflected the firelight, and his smile remained in the corner of his mouth as he chewed.  
  
I was caught. I clenched my toes, thinking of a way out of this. “Actually, no,” I replied coolly.  
  
“Miss?” asked a house elf. “Miss doesn’t want a midnight snack?”  
  
“No,” I lied. “I was just coming from my prefect’s round, and I remembered that I have a request for all of you.”  
  
“What is it? What is it?” asked some of the house elves. “Anything you want, miss!”  
  
James watched me silently as his smile melted into a quizzical frown, wondering what my next move was. I stood a little taller, so my prefect’s badge was noticeable in the dim light.  
  
“I request that you do not serve the Gryffindor table bacon tomorrow,” I said.  
  
“What? Why not?” coughed James as he swallowed a bite of pastry too soon.  
  
My eyes stayed on the house elves. “I’m making this request as a prefect. I saw some rule breaking this morning during breakfast at the Gryffindor table, and as a consequence, they shouldn’t get bacon tomorrow.”  
  
“Yes, miss!” squeaked a few house elves.  
  
“What the bloody hell for?” demanded James. He walked closer to me. His prior good naturedness turned into an icy indignity. “You can’t do that--”  
  
“Would you rather me take away house points?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“What for?”  
  
“I saw you throw some bacon at a few third years this morning,” I told him calmly.  
  
“That was only my cousin, Freddie. No harm was meant by it!”  
  
“Throwing food is against school rules.”  
  
“And you’re taking away the bacon?” James asked. “But my team needs the protein--”  
  
“I could report you and you’d get detention, Potter,” I said. “Either lost house points and detention or no bacon.”  
  
James fumed at me. “You can’t--”  
  
“Sure I can. I just did. You’re lucky that I’m not reporting this encounter. You should be in your dormitory.”  
  
“Just because you’re a prefect--” James started.  
  
“I am,” I interrupted. “Finish your pastries and get back to your tower. Next time I see you out after hours, I’ll report you.” I turned to the house elves. “Thank you for your assistance. Good night.”  
  
“Fortescue--” James was cut off by the house elves’ polite farewell.  
  
“It’s getting late,” I said. “See you later, Potter. Remember what I’ve said.”  
  
With a growling stomach, which I was fairly certain that James could hear, I turned and walked out of the kitchens. As soon as the painting was back on the wall, I let out a sigh of relief. I had not expected to find anyone else there. I hated surprises.  
  
My dreams that night ended in terror. I was always running in the garden at night; I thought I was after food, but I could have been playing a game. But the face from The Prophet was there, the face that caused me to glance away from my morning newspaper and over to James Potter just as he was throwing bacon at his younger cousin. The face of the prisoner who had been broken out of Azkaban the previous night, the face of a man that I swore I saw once as a child at Hannah and Neville’s wedding.  
  
The man had glittering eyes, like he was watching my every move. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifted his lips in a twisted smile, his shining, silver tooth catching the light. And I knew that he had me where he wanted me.  
  
My racing heart woke me every time, and I thought of my encounter with James. Would my request to withhold the bacon be listened to? I hoped to Merlin that it would be. If I had no say over what I dreamt, then I hoped that I could have a say over breakfast.  
  
Sure enough, the next morning there was no bacon at the Gryffindor table. How did I know?  
  
“See you in Charms, Amelia!” Victoria Montague called as she turned her head back towards me.  
  
I was finishing my breakfast, since I had come up late from my dormitory. A night of no food and little sleep made it difficult to get moving in the morning. I waved after her, sipping a goblet of pumpkin juice.  
  
An arm reached from behind me and grabbed something from my plate.  
  
“Merlin’s beard!” I exclaimed, turning around.  
  
James laughed at me, holding one of my strips of bacon in front of him. “I can’t believe the house elves listened to you. No bacon today. Mmm,” he finished, shoving my piece of bacon into his mouth.  
  
My eyes narrowed, and I grabbed my last piece of bacon and licked it from top to bottom before dropping it on my plate. “Serves you right, throwing food. Wasteful,” I sniffed.  
  
James raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think I’m scared of a little saliva?”  
  
He reached towards my plate, but I was faster. I took a bite of my bacon.  
  
“Merlin, Fortescue. You’re one cheeky prefect.”  
  
“All in the line of duty.” I finished my bacon.  
  
James frowned. “Well then, I best keep my toes in line around you. Wouldn’t want to go without bacon again.”  
  
“Good.”

James lingered for a moment before shrugging and walking towards the door. I watched after him.  
  
“Amelia, what did you do to my brother?” Albus Potter asked, bewildered, from a few seats away from me.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
I open my eyes. They’ve adjusted to the darkness; I can see outlines of buckets and brooms. Ollivander calls my name again.  
  
“Coming!” I yell, grabbing a duster.  
  
Whatever the motive, I know that what I received today does not bode well. Whoever sent it to me knows that I’ve had possession of the other two at some point in my life.  
  
I thought that this one was lost. At least, that’s the conclusion I came to throughout my investigations. Seems like I was wrong.  
  
At least this time, I didn’t steal it.  
  
  



	2. The Jaguar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I should just get it over with.

A few days after Halloween of fifth year, I received a visitor. I sat next to Victoria Montague in History of Magic, scribbling copious notes on the lecture when my visitor came.

“Stop paying so much attention,” muttered Victoria as she drew her ideal set of dress robes in the margin of her parchment. “You’re making the rest of us look bad.”

“Can’t help it,” I retorted out of the corner of my mouth. “There’s so much to know.”  
  
It was true. While Professor Binns was by no means the most engaging teacher at Hogwarts, his subject fascinated me. The goblin wars and rebellions, the witch burnings, the wizarding wars: our past swirled around us and created how we lived now.

Before Victoria could reply, there was a knock on the door.

“No, no, Mr. Waddington, you can’t go to the toilet,” grunted Binns from his podium.

“Pardon me, Professor Binns,” Professor McGonagall said kindly as she cracked open the door. “Please excuse Miss Fortescue for the rest of class. I need her to come with me.”

The class turned towards me. I put down my quill and began to pack my things, frustrated that I had to leave early. I knew better than to argue with the Headmistress in front of the class, especially as a prefect. Questions whirled around in my mind about what was to come next.

“Very well then.” Binns cleared his throat and continued, “Ah yes, the eighteenth century. Now that was a time…”

I could feel the class’s interest leave with me. Professor McGonagall, after closing the classroom’s door, turned to me and pursed her lips.

“Am I in trouble, Professor?” I asked, wondering if I needed to put up a defense.

“No, no, Miss Fortescue. It’s best that you come with me to my office.”

I followed her silently to her office, puzzled over this sombre occasion. We went past the eagle statue and up the spiral steps before she spoke to me again.

“Miss Fortescue, this might be a bit of a shock to you. Try to brace yourself as best as you can, and know that you can take as much time as you need.”

I stared up at her, nodding slowly, unsure of exactly what was happening. Professor McGonagall opened the door to her office and ushered me inside.

Books lined the room, as well as portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses. I could see the famous Albus Dumbledore snoozing in his frame.

“Miss Fortescue, you have a visitor,” Professor McGonagall announced.

A witch was sitting in a chair facing the desk. Upon our arrival, she stood up and turned around. I stopped in the doorway as I recognized her.

“Amelia,” she breathed, smiling.

I blinked a few times as my heartbeat quickened.

“Mum,” I finally answered.

She embraced me, and I stared numbly over her shoulder at Professor McGonagall’s empty chair.

“Minerva, would I be able to talk to my daughter somewhere more private?” my mother asked. Professor McGonagall’s gaze narrowed as she nodded.

“Of course. I’ll have tea brought up to my private parlor.” She showed as inside and waited with us until the tea arrived and shut the door behind her.

I walked over to the window and stared out at the grounds. The Black Lake was a glossy mirror to the overcast sky.

“Amelia, darling, look at how much you’ve grown!” beamed my mum as she settled into an armchair.

“What do you want?” I asked flatly, still staring outside.

My mother laughed uncomfortably. “You’re all business, aren’t you? Come and sit. I’ve poured you some tea. Let’s catch up.”

I crossed my arms, squeezing my torso. After all this time, she wanted to _catch up_? “I’m not thirsty.”

“Amelia, I wish you’d be more receptive to my visit. I’ve traveled a long way to see you.” Out of the corner of my eye, she picked up a teacup and took a sip. “Ah, just like I remembered it. Do you enjoy the tea here at Hogwarts?”

“No,” I lied. I faced her. “Why are you here?”

My mother’s gaze hardened. “Sit down.”

“I’m fine here.”

“Amelia...please.”

Her grey eyes pierced my hazel ones. There was nothing polite about her please, or nothing desperate. There was a warning behind the word, a threat. I had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be pleasant getting on her bad side.

Before I knew it, I was sitting in a chair across from her. Her composure softened, but my muscles remained tense.

“There, that’s nice. Now, tell me about your classes. I heard that you’re in sixth year Ancient Runes.”

“Yes,” I replied tersely. “Seems like that’s one good thing you’ve done for me.”

“Amelia,” she said warningly. “Let’s be civil.”

“We don’t have to be anything. I wasn’t even at Hogwarts the last time that I saw you,” I snapped. Visions of her last visit, which had been about a month after I had gotten my Hogwarts letter, swam before my eyes. It hadn’t been the happiest of occasions. There had been arguments between her and my aunt and uncle.

“You know that it’s not my choice to stay away,” she began but I cut her off.

“Really? Dumping your only child at your extended cousin’s place? And then visiting sporadically for the next few years until visits stop all together? Message received. I’ve moved on with my life, and you don’t have a place in it.”

My mum set down her teacup. Her greying brown hair was tied austerely into a knot at the base of her neck, leaving the angles of her face to flash dangerously in my direction.

“Is that what Susan’s told you?” she asked quietly. I could see a crouching jaguar behind her words. One wrong move, and she would attack.

“No. I arrived at that conclusion myself.”

“I see.” Her fingers traced the rim of her teacup, but her eyes never left my face. “You know, it hasn’t been easy.”

I grit my teeth. I didn’t want to hear a pining mother act.

“The work I do… it’s not meant for children,” she went on, carefully, her words edging closer to her attack. “I understand it must be hard to be without your parent. But once you understand the bigger picture…”

She trailed off, finally looking down at her teacup. She seemed like she was pondering taking another sip. But I knew better. She was waiting to pounce on my ignorance. She was baiting me.

I sat there in silence.

“Amelia, I left you at Susan’s for your own protection. What I’m doing now, what I’ve been doing since before you were born, is all for you. It’s for wizardkind everywhere.”

“Okay. Then go back to what you were doing.”

My mother raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t curious to find out what I’ve been doing?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh come on, Amelia. I’ve received Susan’s letters, begging me to come back to give you some peace. She’s told me about how worried she is about you.”

“I’m fine. I go to school. I go to my classes. I get decent grades. And I’m prefect for Merlin’s sake!” I say, standing again. “Listen, I can continue doing all of these things if you’re finished with your visit.”

“I see.” She took a sip from her cup. “Sit down again, Amelia.”

I found myself obeying her. I crossed my legs and leaned back into my chair.

“Now then. If you’re so eager to go back to being a normal student, then I’ll get down to business. After all, that’s what you want.” She paused, and I gave her a blank look. “What I’ve dedicated so much of my life to is for the greater good. I’ve been working tirelessly for The Cause.”

I couldn’t help myself. “The Cause?” I snorted.

“Yes. I want...I _hope_ that you will keep an open mind. It’s a part of our family. It has been for generations. Your grandfather-- _my_ father, Florean--was too meek to do much of anything. It cost him his life during the Second Wizarding War.”

“Okay. Aunt Susan’s told me about my grandfather’s ice cream shop in Diagon Alley.”

“Yes, that was his. I spent many of my summers helping around that shop… But even though he didn’t have much grit for The Cause, he had a keen mind for magical history, a mind, I hear, that you also possess.”

My legs uncrossed. I was furious that she caught my interest.

“I can’t tell you everything about The Cause, I’m afraid. Not now. I hope to in the future. But know this: greater wizards have been a part of it, and they’ve failed. It’s not for the weak of heart, mind, and spirit. But it’s a part of your heritage, and so, if you hear anything said against The Cause in The Prophet or from your teachers here, know that The Cause isn’t what it’s made out to be.”

I scrunched my nose. “Are you… are you doing something _illegal_?”

“No,” my mum said gently. “I am an activist, trying to change the world for better.”

“How so?”

My mum smiled softly. “I can’t tell you that right now. But I do have something for you.” Her hand went inside her plum robe’s pocket and withdrew an envelope. “Amelia, don’t open this here. Open this when you’re absolutely certain that you’re alone.”

My hands extended, and the envelope dropped into them. It was light, but I could tell there was something other than parchment inside.

“Put it inside your bag. It’s best that no one sees.” I obliged. “I should be leaving, Amelia. I don’t know when the next time you’ll see me.” She stood and waited for me, but I remained seated. “Don’t play these games with me, Amelia.”

“You’re the one who’s playing games!” I snapped. My anger propelled me to my feet. “Not seeing me for years and then you show up one day to talk about some important family secret that you can’t tell me much about!”

“I know how frustrating that must be for you. But do know that I have your best interests at heart.” She cupped my cheek with her hand. Her grey eyes searched mine. “You’re going to be a powerful witch, Amelia. I look forward to seeing you again.”

She leaned forward to kiss me.

“Don’t!” I hissed, stepping out of her reach. “That’s not something you say to your _daughter_! After all of this time, you expect--!”

My mum walked past me and opened the door into Professor McGonagall’s office to stop my rant. It worked.

“Minerva, dear, it’s been a pleasure. Thank you for taking Amelia out of class, but I best be off.”

Professor McGonagall stood from behind her desk. Her eyes went from my mother’s calm demeanor to mine.

“You’re welcome, Rita. Miss Fortescue, are you quite all right? You look pale.”

My mother turned to face me. I stared at the two women for a moment. “I’m fine, really, Professor. I better get going back to class,” I said sweetly. “Thank you both for your thoughtfulness towards me.”

I caught my mother’s eye. She was grinning broadly at how I covered up what I truly felt. In that moment, I knew she had won. The jaguar had made its kill.

* * *

It’s a warm night. Whenever a breeze enters my room, I breathe a sigh of relief. I can hear Eddie and Helen listening to the wireless downstairs, which means that Uncle Michael should be reading _The Evening Prophet_ and Aunt Susan should be catching up on her correspondence. If this were another time, I would be with them with a book, but recently, most nights I spend alone in my room.

I am on my bed, staring at the flickering shadows from my candles. The tiny box from this morning’s owl is on my bedside table, jarring me with its presence.

“Did you send it, Rita?” I mutter as I lift my knees to catch the stale breeze. My head turns towards the box. “If so, where did you get it?”

This wouldn’t be the first time that she would have given me something of this magnitude. But it isn’t her style. From what I know of my mother, she has no interest in it. And she likes recognition. So far, the sender remains unknown.

Cursing, I sit up and take off the lid. I should just get it over with. That way, I will know. That way, I will be able to say good-bye.

“Cut it out, Amelia,” I say as I stare at the tiny object within. My hand trembles as I reach inside and touch the smooth pebble.

Holding my breath, I look around the room. No one is there. Slightly relieved, I lift the pebble out of the box to examine it. Even in the candlelight, I can see the light carving of the triangular eye.

“No bloody way…”

I clench it into my fist, and I can feel his presence before I can see him.

“Hello, Amelia."


	3. The Pendant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time that this goes to you.

My heart jolts. I turn to my left and I see him standing at the foot of my bed. He gives me an empty smile. He looks just like he did in life, but there is a washed-out transparency to him. I’m tempted to reach out to him, but I’m sure sure if I wouldn’t be able to touch him, that he isn’t solid.

“Hello,” I breathe, gripping tighter onto the stone. I sit up in bed, feeling exposed.

“Not who you were expecting, I know.”

Even in death, he is calculating. His thick eyebrows make his beady eyes appear smaller, but I know they are drinking in my every move, my every tick.

“What are you doing here?”  
  
“Come now, Amelia.” The way he says my name sets my teeth on edge. I think this may be the first time I have ever heard him say it. “Surely you being my only offspring warrants my posthumous visit. We’re family.”

A bitter laugh escapes my lips. “You don’t know the meaning of that word.”

“You’re right. I’ll give you that.” His ghostly figure steps in front of me. Tempted to brandish my wand, I stand to meet his domineering gaze. “I see you have my complexion. My nose.” He chuckles. “My frown.”

“What do you want?” I ask.

“I believe you’re the one who summoned me,” my father says smugly. He looks boredly around my room, at my piles of books and many lit candles. “You’re a reader, I see. Not much a witch of action.”

“I didn’t summon you,” I snap.

“You did. You thought of me when you picked up the Stone.”

Before I can retort, I catch myself. I did think of him when I clenched my fist. At first, I thought, painstakingly, of James. But then I remember the last time I saw him, at my father’s funeral, before--

“You figured it out. Clever girl, though a tad on the slower side.”  
  
“I don’t appreciate your backhanded compliments. In fact, it’s best that you leave. You’ve given me as much pleasure in your death as you did in your life.”

My father raises his thick eyebrows and crosses his arms. “Now, now, let’s not be too hasty, Amelia. While you can banish me away to... well, to wherever I came from, you won’t find what you’re looking for with this Stone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Honestly, the Resurrection Stone? The most useless of the Hallows. I’m disappointed.”

I roll my eyes. “Get to the point. What do you mean that I won’t find what I’m looking for?”

My father laughs. He twirls his beard with his finger; his eyes resume to study me. “Maybe I should take back what I’ve said about you being clever. You want to talk to that boy you dated? Harry Potter’s son? Well, you won’t be able to.”

“And how do you know?” I sneer. “His name is James, and you hurt him when you crashed that dinner party--”

“Protective now of your loved ones? A trait you inherited from your mother, who sent you away for your protection. Ha.”

“I’ve inherited only a few things from either of my parents, and a sense of protection is not one of them.” I pace over to the window, staring into the darkness enveloping the back garden.

“You’ve inherited more than you’re willing to accept,” my father says.

_Pick your battles,_ I silently tell myself, as much as it makes all the muscles in my body frigid. He’s giving half-answers, trying to lure me into a twisted guessing game. “Now tell me, why can’t I speak to James? I’m speaking to you, and you mean a hell of a lot less to me than most people, living or dead.”  
  
“Or presumed dead.”

“Get to your bloody point!”

“You haven’t figured it out already? Fine, I’ll tell you. You won’t be able to talk to him because _James,_ as you call him, isn’t dead,” my father explains with a sneer.

I step closer to him. My pulse quickens. “What? How do you know?”

“I’m dead. He’s not. I know that much. Can I leave now? I’m getting bored of this conversation.”

My breaths rattle in my chest as my trembling hands grip onto my bedpost. If what my father is true, then that must mean that James is still out there someone, surviving. My stomach churns. The room spins.

“If you’re telling the truth, do you know where I can find him alive?” I ask. I shudder at my desperate tone. My father catches onto my insecurities, my hopes, and shatters them with his answer.

“No. I do not have omniscient knowledge. But even if you’re to find him alive, and given everything that’s happened, how do you know that he would even _want_ to talk to you?”

“Ugh! You’re no more help to me, you liar!” I yell. Trying to blot out his stinging words, I hurl the Resurrection Stone at his figure. My father’s laugh echoes in my ears as he disappears.

“Amelia?” Eddie comes in. He’s about to enter his fifth year at Hogwarts, but he still hasn’t reached his growth spurt yet. “Mum heard shouting. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Eddie, really. Just cursing this damn heat,” I say as I sit down on my bed and pick up a book. “Being so warm makes it so difficult to read.”

Eddie stares at me for a moment, deciding if I’m telling the truth. He does. “Okay then. Goodnight.”

“‘Night Ed,” I say as he closes the door. As soon as I hear his footsteps fade, I scramble to the corner where the Stone lies, waiting for me.

I know I shouldn’t be caving. But if there’s a possibility that my father wasn’t lying, I need to know.

I pick it up and make a fist. I think of James.

No one appears.

“James. James Potter.”

I pause, wondering if I’m calling the wrong one. I refine my search.

“James Sirius Potter.”

No one else appears in my room, and I wait in silence.

* * *

I made it with seconds to spare to Transfiguration directly after my mother’s visit. My mind reeled with her words and her manipulative. The envelope still lingered in my bag, which made it seem like I carried a heavy, oversized cauldron around. Even though I wanted nothing to do with my mother, I had a feeling that waiting to open the envelope was the best option. I needed to avoid suspicion.

“What happened? Why did McGonagall want you?” Victoria asked. Her blue eyes looked questioningly into my hazel ones. Hers was full of concern. I wasn’t sure what emotion mine were portraying.

Noticing other classmates’ stares at my sudden reappearance, I shrugged. _Stay neutral,_ I thought to myself. “Tell you about it later.”

She nodded her agreement before Professor Ritter began his lesson.

It was a frustrating one. I couldn’t concentrate on the advance movements of transfiguring a mouse into a snuffbox. My poor mouse was avoiding my wand and my unsuccessful attempts at magic. I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want me to turned into something else.

In way, that already had happened to me today. I was the mouse, my mother was the wand. I wondered how much of a painted snuffbox I was now.

“Well done, Miss Montague. I like the intricate detailing on the edges. How’s your snuffbox coming along, Miss Fortescue?” Professor Ritter asked as he came over to our desk. I avoided his gaze.

“Look for yourself. You have eyes.”

“Excuse me?”  
  
Victoria tensed beside me. A few classmates sitting around us stopped working to see what would transpire.

“The mouse is still a mouse... Sir,” I added hastily. My eyes remained gazing forward, but I could feel Professor Ritter’s stare boring into the side of my face.

“I know that this is a complex spell, Miss Fortescue, but--”

“But what?” I said. “What’s the point of this?” I finally looked up into his dark eyes.

“What did you just say to me?” Ritter demanded quietly. The whole class was watching us now.

“I said,” I began tersely, “What’s the point of this? Of this spell? Why in the name of Merlin do we even want to transfigure a mouse into a bloody snuffbox?”

There was a silent pause before Ritter said, “Ten points from Slytherin, Miss Fortescue, for your disrespectful tone.”

“Whatever. I’m done. I’m not turning this mouse into a stupid snuffbox. Don’t you know that smoking is bad for you anyway? And what has this mouse done to deserve such a useless fate?”

“You know full well we transfigure all the mice back to their original states, Miss Fortescue,” Professor Ritter explained calmly. “I ask that you get back to your assignment before I take away any more points for insubordination.”

“No.”

Someone gasped. Victoria kicked my foot underneath my desk, but I didn’t care.

“No? I see then. I think a detention is needed, Miss Fortescue. And you, a prefect.”

I stood up, glaring at him. “Fine. But it’s not going to change my mind,” I snapped. I grabbed my bag and walked out of the classroom, leaving behind a buzz of startled excitement.

I could feel Ritter’s stare and Victoria’s concern piercing my back, but I didn’t care. I needed to move, to shake off my mum’s visit.

For ages now, I had grown comfortable at the thought that Aunt Susan and even Uncle Michael were my parental guardians. I even considered Eddie and Helen as siblings. I was used to my life without my mother.

But her sudden reappearance was like a lightning shock to my system. I didn’t feel like me anymore; I didn’t feel like a mouse.

Instead, I felt like a cold, useless snuffbox, full of toxicity.

I needed to change that. I needed to go back to the way things were before now. But it would take time.

I wandered the halls, avoiding people when I heard them. I even hid successfully from Neville--or Professor Longbottom as I was supposed to call him while I was here at school. Eventually, I found myself on the edge of the Black Lake. In the distance, I could see Albus Dumbledore’s white tomb. If I were to look a little more to my right, I would be able to see the memorial for the Battle of Hogwarts.

It was quiet here, a patch of suspended time and temporary peace.

Before I knew it, the envelope my mum had given me was in my hands. Hastily, unwittingly, I opened it. A pendant slid out of the envelope, along with a brief note.

The note was in Runes. My mother had taught me the basics as a child. I learned Runes before I learned letters of the alphabet. I could easily decipher the note.

> _Dear Amelia, This pendant belonged to your grandfather Florean, who kept it locked away in his vault in Gringotts. It’s time that this goes to you. The pendant is a symbol that is helpful to The Cause. I urge you to keep it secret. Love, your mother Rita_

As soon as I finished reading, the note turned to ash in my hand. I repeated the note in my mind several times to commit it to memory.

I could hear people talking about two hundred meters away from me. I turned to see the Gryffindor Quidditch team walking up to the castle. It must have been nearly dinner time by now. As soon as they were out of earshot, I examined the pendant.

“Odd,” I muttered, turning it over in my hands. It was solidly made and looked old. My finger traced the outline. I wasn’t sure what the pendant was supposed to represent. It was a Rune I had never seen before, and I had taken my O.W.L. in Ancient Runes last year as a fourth year. It looked like a triangular eye, nothing that I had ever come across.

I cursed my mother for bringing more confusion into my life. I grasped it into my hand and lifted my fist, tempted to throw it into the lake. But the thought of my grandfather, a highly celebrated wizard, stopped me. This had been his. He had kept it safe. And now it was mine, regardless that it was my mother who gave it to me.

Carefully, I put the pendant around my neck, tucking it and its gold chain underneath my shirt before I headed back to the castle.

In retrospect, I probably should have thrown the pendant into the lake. I believe that in that moment of yearning for my grandfather, I sealed the fate of what was to come in the following years.

* * *

****  
  


In the darkness, I think of him. He hasn’t appeared yet, and I begin to think that maybe what my father told me was true. That he isn’t dead. That he’s alive.

James is alive. James is alive. James is alive.

This rhythmic chant repeats in my mind as my grasp loosens on the stone. Eventually, the chant simplifies as I lull to sleep.

_James. James. James. James._


	4. The Detention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don’t think I could pull off the astronomical look."

Two nights after my tumultuous visit with my mother and my outrageous outburst with Professor Ritter, I said goodnight to Victoria before heading to the greenhouses to serve my detention with Neville. With my gloves in hand, I wondered what I would be doing. I didn’t mind Herbology lessons, so perhaps this detention wouldn’t be so bad after all.

I arrived ten minutes early. Neville was at his desk, reading _The Evening Prophet_. The man’s face was on the front cover again.

“Amelia! I wasn’t expecting you so soon. Come in and take a seat to wait for the others,” he greeted, waving me to an empty chair.

“Others?”

“Yeah. I’m doing some collective detentions. Kirby Williams and James Potter.”

I raised my eyebrows. It was no surprise that James Potter would have a detention, and I thought I knew Kirby Williams as a third year Ravenclaw. “I see. Then I best wait... Oh, by the way, I apologized to Professor Ritter today, as you told me.”

Neville smiled. “Good. I’m glad that you took that responsibility.”

“And...” I paused. My eyes wavered from his. “And I would like to thank you for intervening for me. You didn’t have to do that.”  
  
Neville nodded slowly. His round face studied me for a moment before replying. “You’re welcome, Amelia. In normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be the case, as I suspect you know. But Professors Ritter, McGonagall, and I agree that you were put under unfair stress from your mother’s visit.”

I nodded, at a loss of words. I knew that this sentence _was_ light. No more lost points. No detention with Ritter. Neville must have really advocated for me. I finally saw who was on the front page of Neville’s newspaper. “Have they caught him?”

“Caught who?” Neville asked. He followed my gaze. “Ah, Cassius Vaisey. No, I’m afraid. But he was sighted in London. The Ministry is on high alert.”

Cassius Vaisey’s photograph sneered, revealing his silver tooth. He was a face that was hard to forget, even though I knew I saw him as a child at Neville’s wedding. I swallowed, looking back at Neville. Perhaps he knew something that the newspaper didn’t.

“Do you know what he did? Why he was in Azkaban?” I asked.

“He killed someone. His brother, I think, about six or seven years ago,” Neville answered.

“Did you know him?”

“Did I--? Why do you ask, Amelia?” Neville asked, putting down the newspaper.

Before I could answer, a knock came at the door. Kirby Williams, a blonde, scrawny Ravenclaw, peeked his head inside.

“Hullo Professor,” he said dully. “Can I come in?”

“Of course you can, Kirby. Just waiting on one--”

“Sorry I’m late, Nev--Professor!” panted James as he ran into the office. His breath caught in his throat upon seeing Kirby and me. “Oh brilliant. Others!”

“Good evening, James. Let’s get to business, shall we?” Neville said. “Come and bring your gloves and your cloaks. You have a project in greenhouse six to do.”

We followed behind Neville. James raised his eyebrows as I walked in front of him, wondering why I was even here. I ignored him. Kirby was directly behind Neville and kept his head down.

“Right, you lot. As you know, winter is on its way. We have to plant some Arctic ferns. I want to do them with the second years in January, so it’s best to prepare now.” He paused outside the greenhouse. “It’s chilly inside. I have some scarves and hats for you to use if it’s too cold for you.”

He opened the door, and we went inside. In the dim light, I could see my breath erupting from my lips in icy swirls.

“I’ll come back in an hour to see your progress, and also to give you a break from the chill. I advise you to not talk too much, but also use each other’s company to get the work done.” He winked. “Scarves and the like are over there. Shovels and spores over here, next to the empty patch, where you’ll be planting. It’ll be tough work to loosen the hard soil. Any questions?”

“Yes, Professor,” James said. He leaned towards Neville. “What do you say when you give a hippogriff named Lilac to your girlfriend?”

Neville sighed, shaking his head at the timing of his joke. “All right, I’ll bite. What?”

“Take-a-sniff of this hippogriff!”

I snorted. “Really? That’s not even funny.”

“James, you really do have an interesting imagination,” Neville chuckled, “But I’m afraid it won’t get you out of this detention. See you in an hour.”

“Aw, Professor, I had to give it a try,” James said, grinning broadly. “You never know if a joke is the right one until you say it!”

“Maybe next time say ‘Take-a- _whiff’_!” Neville called over his shoulder as he closed the door.

“Damn,” James said, looking over at Kirby and me. “That’s loads better than _sniff_ , don’t you think?”

“I think you should do less sniffing and less whiffing,” I muttered as I walked over to the box with scarves.

“Is that sarcasm I detect?” James asked, laughing. “A Slytherin prefect in detention _and_ is sarcastic. You’re full of surprises, Fortescue. Keep ‘em coming. It’ll make tonight pass quicker.”

“Hey guys, should we get started?” Kirby asked quietly. “I will do this section here and work towards the middle, okay?”

“Rock on, Kirby!” James said enthusiastically. “You do what you gotta do to get it done. But after a few more detentions, you’ll learn to appreciate and savor the commitment of manual labor.”

“Far out,” I exclaimed, lifting a pair of earmuffs from the box. They resembled a galaxy of stars and supernovas. “If I had a pair of earmuffs, these would be the pair!”

James appeared at my elbow. “Nice! I always knew that Longbottom had a killer fashion sense. Are there any more?”

“I haven’t seen any,” I told him as I put them over my ears. I smiled at the sudden warmth. “Kirby, I’ll start on the over end of the patch, okay?”

“‘Kay,” he panted glumly. He was already on his knees packing loosening the soil.

I gingerly put on my gloves and picked up a gardening shovel to get to work. Mere moments into my task, James appeared beside me again.

“You got the coolest pair of earmuffs. Thought you’d like to know,” James informed me as he, too, picked up a shovel. He sprouted a pair of bright red earmuffs and a black and white striped scarf.

“Uh, thanks. Do you mind?”

“Only a little bit. I don’t think I could pull off the astronomical look.”

“I meant your proximity to my workspace,” I said, looking up at him. His brown eyes flashed mischievously as he grinned. He had some freckles dusted across his face.

“Between you and me,” he whispered, “I think our friend, Kirby here, is a bit distressed that he’s in detention. I want him to sweat it out a bit before breaking the ice with him.”

“And I’m better company?” I asked him skeptically.

“Fair point,” he said, shrugging. “But I’m curious to know why you’re here, Fortescue. What happened to the bacon-snatching, authoritative prefect?”

Rolling my eyes, I went back to loosening the soil. “That gossip hasn’t reached your ears yet? It’s all over the Slytherin common room.”

“Leave it to the Slytherins to keep gossip to themselves,” he said. He angled his shovel to the near-frozen earth and began to dig.

“You could’ve heard it easily from your brother,” I said. “He’s a Slytherin, too.”

“Don’t remind me,” James groaned. He sighed. “I’ll never understand that one… But I’m only joking a little bit. I heard some...vague rumors.”

“Then let them remain vague,” I said. I furrowed my brow, keeping strict eye contact on my work.

“That’s no fun,” James complained. “Fine… How about _I_ tell you why I’m here?”

“Does it involve throwing bacon?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Then telling bad jokes?”

James laughed. “Most of my jokes are irresistibly funny! But no. I’m here because the bucket of water intended for Peeves landed on the librarian.”

“Was that why she had wet hair and a foul mood yesterday?” I asked.

“In retrospect, throwing a bucket of water on Peeves is probably not the best thing to do to a poltergeist, but he was pelting chalk at us again, so I wanted to inconvenience him back. Perhaps next time I’ll think of something better.”

“And have another poor soul take Peeves’ punishment?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily describe our librarian’s soul as ‘poor.’ More like ‘withered’ or ‘pruned,’” James explained matter-of-factly.

“She is a very lovely soul once you get to know her!” I protested. My hand shovel hit a large pebble. I lost my grip and the shovel flung towards James.

“Wotcher!” he exclaimed, catching it. I then knew why he played Seeker. “Here you go. Watch out there.”

There was a lull in the conversation as we worked silently next to each other. James, of course, was the first to break the silence.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re here tonight?” he prompted again.

I shook my head. “Vague rumors are best if unconfirmed.”

“Well, what about you, Kirby?” James turned towards the quietest member of our party.

The Ravenclaw jumped at being addressed. “Erm,” he said nervously, “I tripped a girl when we were walking from Defense Against the Dark Arts. My mum sent me a Howler yesterday at breakfast.”

“Oh, that was you?” James asked interestedly. “I’ve gotten a couple of those in my time. Did the girl deserve it? To be tripped?”

“Yeah,” he said darkly. “She made fun of my boggart.”

“She did not!” James gasped in a mocking yet supportive outside. “What’s your boggart?”

Kirby began to blush. “A butterfly,” he grumbled before turning back to his digging. He approached it with a little too much vigor.

“A creature worthy of fear,” James nodded. “My boggart’s a giant scorpion. Wicked creatures. What’s yours, Fortescue?”

I paused my digging, looking back at him. Even Kirby stopped to listen to my answer. I wasn’t about to give it to the likes of them, so I decided to go for the snarky response.

“Are you sure you want to know?” I asked.

“Yeah!”

“Small talk.”

A pause and then a boisterous laugh. “Merlin, Fortescue! You’re good,” James said. “Where was this attitude when you took away my bacon?”  
  
“You’ll never let that go, will you?” I rolled my eyes and went back to my task.

“Never.”

I shrugged, slightly annoyed at his prodding but also slightly annoyed by myself for being okay with it. “Well, I guess now I give fewer shits than I did back then.” It was true enough. Memories of my mother’s unannounced visit set my teeth on edge. What was the point of following the rules and always being polite when people dragged you into their shit anyways?

I resisted the urge to fiddle with my grandfather’s pendant, still hidden underneath my clothes.

“Bravo,” James said. “Well, this attitude suits you, anyway. But really, why are you here? They don’t hand out detentions for giving fewer shits.”

I sighed, putting down my shovel. “For the sake of some inner peace, I’d rather keep this brief and move on. I exchanged a few cross words with Professor Ritter before ditching the rest of the Transfiguration lesson.”

“Blimey, you’re on a roll. What did you say to him?”

“Enough to get me here tonight,” I told him cryptically. I gave him a warning glare. James received it and changed the subject to Quidditch.

Soon, the conversation lulled into silence. Neville soon joined us in the greenhouse.

“How’s it going?” he asked brightly.

“Good, sir!” James enthusiastically replied. “We’re about finished with the soil, and soon we’ll start planting the spores.”

“Excellent! How is everyone handling the chill? Need a break? Let’s get some tea in my office.”  
  
“Why are we getting tea?” Kirby asked. “Aren’t we being punished?”

“Yes, you are living out the consequences of your choices, but that doesn’t mean getting frostbite. Tea is purely for your wellbeing.”

And so it was. Neville gave us the blandest tea, but I was thankful for a reprieve from the cold.

“Oh! You found some earmuffs, I see,” Neville said, smiling. “They used to belong to a good friend of mine, Luna Lovegood.”  
  
“Why would she ever give these up?” I exclaimed. “They’re marvelous.”

Neville chuckled. “I think she found some that helped keep away Wackspurts or something of the sort. Anyway, I forgot I had these. Did I ever tell you about the time when…?”

At half past nine, Neville ushered us back into the greenhouse.

“This shouldn’t take too long,” he said kindly. “Once you’re done, come to my office and I’ll mark you off for completing a detention.” We started to go inside. “Amelia, can I have a quick word?”

James gave me a curious look before Neville closed the door between us.

“Yes, Professor?”  
  
“I wanted to check with you about before, about Cassius Vaisey. Why did you ask if I knew him?”

My heart began to pound quickly. Should I tell him? “I…”

“You what?” His face, normally kind and warm, was stern and unyielding. 

Silently cursing myself for my blank mind, I decided that that truth couldn’t hurt. “Well, I was wondering because… well, it was a long time ago, and it was night, and I was only a little kid…"

“Amelia, what’s this about?” Neville’s deep concern caused me to take a step back.

“I thought I saw him a long time ago. At your wedding.”

“You what?” Neville asked. “Are you sure?”

“No…” But his face wasn’t one that I would forget anytime soon. “Yes? I don’t know. I was about eight at the time, so I can’t really be sure. He was standing outside of the party tent, anyway, talking to someone.”

“Who was this someone? Do you remember what they were talking about?” Neville asked.

I shook my head. “No… I couldn’t see the other person. It was a man, I think. I don’t think I remember what they were talking about. Maybe about someone. And Hogwarts? I… It was so long ago, and I could be terribly wrong.”

“Amelia, why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I-I don’t know! I thought that you or Hannah knew him, that he must’ve been a friend.”

Neville sighed, closing his eyes. “Thank you, Amelia, for telling me. I might share this information with some of my friends at the Ministry. Is that okay?”

I paled.

“You won’t get into trouble, I promise,” Neville said reassuringly.

“Okay then…” I shifted uncomfortably, wanting desperately to leave. “Can I get back to work?”

“Of course, of course. See you in a bit,” Neville said before heading back to his office.

When I reentered the greenhouse, James swore.

“My mum’s going to kill me!” he cried, examining a tear in the side of his cloak.

“What happened?” I wondered, inspecting it with him.

“Got caught on a nail! Bugger.”

“I’m sure you could sew it back up,” I said confidently, putting my gloves back on.

“First I’d have to learn how to sew!” James said. “Anyway, this cloak’s new. I got it a couple weeks ago for my birthday… Gah!” He swatted the torn bit away.

“Happy belated birthday,” I said, taking a bowl of spores. “You’re lucky yours is in the autumn. Mine’s on Boxing Day, so it gets overshadowed by Christmas festivities.”

James raised his eyebrows. “That sucks. The attention you get on your birthday is awesome. I’ve gotten some pretty wicked gifts…” James quickly changed the subject to something I was sure he was dying to discuss. “Say, what did Nev--Professor Longbottom-- want with you just now?”

Kirby took a brief pause in the rhythm of his work, intrigued. I gave a small smile. “He wanted a prefect’s perspective on things.” _True enough_ , I thought. “It seems like we’re nearly finished...”

When our work pleased Neville, he released us back to the castle. I must admit, it was hard to part with those earmuffs, much to James’ amusement. Kirby, James, and I walked in silence. It was past ten o’clock, and we were tired from working the hard soil.

“Well, this is me,” I said when we came to the entrance hall. “Dungeons. Lovely place for a common room, isn’t it?”

“The loveliest,” agreed James. Kirby muttered a goodnight. The boys turned to continue to their dormitories. I finally plucked up the courage to say something.

“Potter? Er, James?”

He stopped, turning around. “What?”

“When you said that… that my new attitude suits me…” I paused, formulating the right words in my mind.

“Yeah?” he prompted. In the distance, Kirby looked uncertain if he should have stopped to listen in on this conversation.

“Well, I want you to know that I like who I was when I was an authoritative prefect just like how I like myself now as a cheekier one. I don’t need to seek approval from my peers.”

James cocked his head to the side, seemingly at a loss for words. At first, I thought that I messed up our new flow, but what he said erased my doubts.

“I appreciate you telling me this, Amelia. I don’t want you to seek my approval for your cheeky behavior. I want you to be cheeky because you seem happier when you are.”

“Okay, then.” My relief was unexpected. “I’m glad we cleared that up. Good night.”

“Good night, Amelia.”

The memories from detention stayed with me long after that night. When I saw James in Ancient Runes class, he greeted me kindly. Even little Kirby threw me a smile when we passed in the corridors. But Neville _did_ inform his Ministry friends about what I might have seen. I was asked to give an official statement (with Aunt Susan present since I was underage) one Saturday afternoon, in Professor McGonagall’s office to keep it quiet from the student body. The Auror was nice enough. She asked me to recall the events, and I repeated what I had told Neville.

Both recounts, though, I glossed over the end, when I made eye contact with Cassius Vaisey.

I had been too terrified to move as they continued to talk in the shadows outside of the wedding tent. I could tell that what the two men were saying was not good. The excitement from the game I had been playing had been consumed by a paralyzing terror.

“Amelia? Where are you? We’re playing a new game now!” a voice had called behind me.   
  
Vaisey had turned around at hearing the voice, and I knew then that he saw me. He smiled at me, and it was all that I could do to look away in terror.

“Amelia!” The voice had found me.

“Yeah?” My voice was shaky.

“Louis and Dominique are setting the rules. Let’s go play! Come on!” James Potter, aged nine, led the way back into the party tent, to where the other kids were waiting to begin a new game. When I had looked back to see the two men, they were gone.

* * *

It’s morning. A numb disbelief throbs throughout my body. How can I be here, right now? It was so real; I felt like I was back in fifth year again, in detention with James.

James.

The Resurrection Stone sits on my nightstand. I quickly snatch it and place it in my jewelry box, securing a lock. A shoddy hiding place, I know, but for now, it’s the best I can do.

I walk over to my wardrobe and open its contents. Searching, I finally find what I’m looking for. I put my pair of galactic earmuffs on and crawl back into bed.

It was so real. But it was a dream. Or a memory. I can’t tell.

The earmuffs are soft beneath my fingertips and too hot for my ears, but I don’t care. These earmuffs are what I have left from the detention.

No, these aren’t the ones that Neville had in his storage. No. These are perhaps the most perplexing thing from detention because when it was Boxing Day about seven weeks later, or my sixteenth birthday, I received these earmuffs as a present.

I remember what the card said.

> _Happy Birthday, Amelia! I was out shopping with my family, and I saw these. I remember how much you coveted the ones from detention. Hope these fill the gaping hole that was left by the original pair and the fact that your birthday is the day after Christmas. Have a good rest of your holiday. James._


	5. Ehwaz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dabbling in the air of intrigue, I see.”

The first of September passes, and it feels strange that I do not join my cousins, Edgar and Helen, on the Hogwarts Express. Eddie’s heading into his fifth year and Helen her third. I am headed into uncertainty.

My plan has taken a while to formulate. If there is a chance of finding James, I need to convince the Aurors that he is alive. But I can’t reveal the Resurrection Stone to just anyone. It’s a dangerous tool, and I can’t let it possibly slip into the wrong hands.

The only person I can think of who would believe me is also the person I most fear: Harry Potter.

* * *

I’m not sure why events in the second half of my fifth played out like they did. At the time, I couldn’t see how they were connected. If I had had a chance to change things, I’m not sure if I would have, and that’s a difficult thing to admit.

After the detention and my birthday, I became wary of James. I wasn’t scared of him, just confused. Especially after events like, “Oi, Amelia! Nice earmuffs!” James had been heading down for Care of Magical Creatures as I had just come out of Herbology.

“Thanks!” I had called back. He had given me a thumb’s up before going on his way with a group of friends, who had been looking over at me.

It must have been the end of February or the beginning of March when James and I next worked together. It wasn’t in another detention. It was in Ancient Runes class. We were finishing a unit on Ancient Egyptian Runes, and we had to translate and solve some Runes in order to break into tombs--all on parchment, of course, but if we wrote down one wrong answer, we could get trapped.

“I’m going to pair you up based on the Runes you draw from my bag!” announced Professor Babbling as jolly as ever.Some of the class groaned, and I was silently with them. Group work wasn’t one of my favorite activities, and _random_ group work meant that I had no choice with whom I was going to work.

Since I was sitting near the front, I was one of the first to pull a Rune.

“Ehwaz. Good choice,” smiled Professor Babbling. I turned the Rune over in my hand, studying it. I remember it was on the O.W.L. exam last year.

Once everyone had their Runes, there was a buzz of students trying to find each other. I stood up with the class but leaned against the desk, waiting for my partner to find me.

“Amelia, what do you have? I think we have the same one,” said Marion Gorgon. I looked at the Rune in her hand.“That’s _Ei_ whaz. I have Ehwaz,” I told her.

“Damn. They look so similar,” she complained. “Would’ve liked working with you, though.”

“Who has Ehwaz?” James asked. “I heard one of you say you had it.”

“It’s her,” Marion said before leaving us.

James raised his eyebrows. “Well, it looks like we’re partners, which is rather funny when you think about it.”

“Huh?”

“Ehwaz means partnership. We’re partners on the project. Good start on the project, yeah?” James flashed a smile. I returned it with a smaller one. “Gah, it was funnier in my head.”

“I suppose.”

“When do you want to meet to work on this?” James asked. “Not sure if I’m up for an assignment this intense.” He gave a wink.

“What are you doing on Thursday at half four?”

“Working with you, obviously.”

* * *

With a stroke of good fortune, I have been offered an entry-level position at the Ministry of Magic with the research committee, which gives me easier access around the Ministry. The day before yesterday was my first day, so hopefully I have the chance to go find Harry Potter today.

My mouth goes dry. So much can go wrong.

Aunt Susan says goodbye to me in the Atrium. I grip tightly onto my bag, where the Resurrection Stone is securely hidden. Keeping a neutral face, I walk towards Phoebus Penrose’s office, but I’m stopped right outside. A figure steps in front of my path.

“Fortescue,” says Auror Barrett. Her blue eyes glare down at me.

“Good morning, Auror Barrett,” I say lightly. I had been wondering if I would be running into her.

“I found out yesterday that you got a job at the Ministry. Don’t know how you wriggled your way into here,” she sneers.

I keep my tone polite. “My N.E.W.T. scores came in almost two weeks ago, and I qualified to work with Professor Penrose. Now if you--”

“I’ve got my eye on you,”Auror Barrett interrupts curtly.

“Are you threatening me?” My voice loses its pleasantness. I take a step forward.

We wait for two wizards to rush past us before she speaks.

“Of course not.” There’s a pause. I narrow my eyes as she continues, “I’m making sure your transition to the Ministry is smooth. Wouldn’t want to get caught in the crossfires of anything, now would we?”

I smile darkly. “I can look out for myself, thank you.”

We stare at each other for a moment.

“Unbelievable,” mutters Auror Barrett, shaking her head. She pushes past me and disappears into the stream of people walking towards the elevators. Sighing, I readjust my bag on my shoulder before heading into the office.

* * *

Sitting at my favorite spot in the library, I continued to puzzle over my grandfather’s pendant. What did it mean? So far, it wasn’t in any of the books I had for Ancient Runes, and I already started on some of the other Runes books in the library. My next step was the Restricted Section, and that would be tricky.

“Hey Amelia!” greeted James.

I jumped at his sudden appearance. My books and notes were all over the place.

“Blimey,” he breathed, sitting across from me. “Are all these for our project?”

“No, no. They’re mostly for my own research.”

James stared at me and nodded slowly. “I’m impressed-- not that you need my approval,” he added hastily.

I returned his nod. “Thanks, though I’ll take it as a compliment. Now, to get cracking with these Egyptian Runes, I thought that we should brush up on the history of ancient Egyptian wizards.”

“You serious?”

“Yeah. I have some books which I think might be helpful. There’s a lesser known Bathilda Bagshot book that I’m keen to read,” I said, piling my papers on the triangular eye and moving the history books onto the table from the chair next to me.

James picked up one, studying it. “You like to read this stuff for fun?”

“Well, not for fun really, just in my free time.”

“You remind me a lot of my Aunt Hermione,” James said. “My dad always talks about how she saved his skins at Hogwarts because she read a lot.”

“Well so far, I haven’t saved anyone’s skins,” I replied, grinning. I was quite flattered to be compared to the Minister for Magic.

“Let’s keep it that way. I’d like to keep mine fully intact at all times.” He also grinned and opened the book. “This is dense. If this is what you do in your free time, what do you do for fun?”

My stare was deadpan. “Nothing.”

James laughed. “No really. There must be something you like to do.”

I shrugged, not sure how to answer him. “I don’t know. Read less dense stuff, maybe.”

James shook his head. “Unbelievable. I always thought Slytherins didn’t have a sense for fun, and this just proves it.”  
  
“What does my House have anything to do with it?”

“Take a look at my brother. His fun factor is almost at zero.”  
  
I raised my eyebrows and crossed my arms. “Very well, then. What do you do for fun?”

“Now we’re talking!” James exclaimed. “In addition to all of the fun games known to wizardkind--Quidditch especially--I like to go on adventures.”

“What kind of adventures?”

“I’m not sure I should be telling you this, as you’re a prefect and all…”

“Oh my,” I began. I opened the folder in which had our Ancient Runes assignment. “Whatever you do must be awfully fun if they suggest breaking school rules.”

“They might suggest breaking the rules or they might not.” James was fighting to keep a smile a bay.

“Dabbling in the air of intrigue, I see,” I said quietly, laying out the Egyptian Runes in front of us.

“Can’t be. That’s your area.”

“Oh?” I felt a smile tug at my lips.

“Yeah. You hardly seem to answer any of my questions.”

“Because you answer them yourself.”

“What?”

“You just identified what I like to do for fun.”  
  
A brief pause and then-- “Crickey, Amelia, you’re good!”

We soon got to working on our project. It was our toughest ones to date, since not all of our books had translations available. James and I maintained our friendly banter throughout that day and all of our meetings, and we must have carried it outside of our meeting times at the library, because soon, people began to notice.

* * *

At break time, I make my way to the Law Enforcement Office. I have to restrain my pace to one of purpose and not of speed. Thankfully, there are clusters of witches and wizards in which I blend. I keep a look out for Auror Barrett. If she spots me, I’ll have to turn back, hopefully without getting caught.

I follow the signs to where the top administrators are. I silently praise Merlin that they’re separated from the cubicles in main Auror office.

A receptionist is there. I have nowhere to hide nor any way to sneak past her.

“Hullo,” she says, eyeing me. “What can I do you for?”

“Er, hello,” I say. I straighten my shoulders and look past her. I spot the closed door that reads _Harry Potter, Head of Magical Law Enforcement_. “I’m here on urgent business with Harry Potter.”

“Your name?” She looks down at her agenda, quill in hand.

There’s no turning back now. “Amelia Fortescue.”

She pauses and bites her bottom lip before saying, “Does Mr. Potter know that you’re coming to see him today?”

“I’m not certain,” I reply. “But I do need to see him.”

“About what?”

“I can’t tell you, sorry,” I say. “But it is important.”

She puts down her quill. “I see. I’m afraid that Mr. Potter can’t see you right now. He’s busy running a tight ship around here.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. What am I to do now? I roll back my shoulders and grip tightly onto my bag.

“I assure you that this is important. I can’t imagine Mr. Potter would be very pleased to hear that you turned me away.” I confidently begin to walk past her desk. She stands, whipping out her wand.

“Miss Fortescue, you’re not seeing Mr. Potter.”

“It’s urgent.”

“I’m sorry. You can’t.”

“Then I need to make an appointment then. Sooner rather than later.”

“I don’t think that’s possible at the moment. Mr. Potter is a busy man,” she responds. She steps in front of me.

“And if I have something that’s vital information?” My voice raises. I refuse to look past the receptionist to try to hide my next attempt to cause a scene.

“I can refer you to someone else. Auror Barrett, perhaps.”

Ah, they have a system in place for me. I don’t blame them after everything that’s happened. I try to brush past this piece of new information.

“What I have is case sensitive. Can I see Mr. Potter now?” My voice is louder still. The tension in the air thickens as I see the receptionist thinking of what to do next.

“I’m sorry, Miss Fortescue, not now. If you don’t leave, I’ll have to call security,” she warns.

“Why?” I demand. “I _need_ to see Mr. Potter. Now if you excuse me--!”

“Security”! shouts the receptionist as I step past her.

“It’s important!” I exclaim. Security wizards appear in my path. A couple office doors open. I need to keep up my tantrum if I have hopes that Harry will emerge from his office. I try to walk past the security wizards.

“Miss, if you don’t leave now, we’ll have to escort you out,” one of them warns.

“Out of my way!” I shout. “I need to see Harry Potter!”

They grab onto my arms and begin to drag me away.   
  
“Let go of me! I need Harry Potter NOW!” I scream. I kick out my legs and twist my body, trying to loosen their grip on me. My eyes stay on Harry’s door. To my relief, I see it open. He stands in the doorway, drinking in the scene. His face darkens as soon as he sees what’s happening.

“You’re coming with us, miss,” says one of the guards as he tries to turn me away from facing Harry’s door. I resist.

“Harry! Harry, please!” I shout. “It’s about--” A wand appears in my face, so I twist away. “It’s about--” Another wand comes towards my face. We’re about to round the corner. In a surge of fury, I twist around, facing an office full of wizards. Harry’s gone from his threshold, but the door remains open. “Peverell!” I holler before I’m finally removed from the office.  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Mum's the Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve made a right mess of things, haven’t I?”

My cup of tea has grown cold. I sit in the empty kitchen, staring out the window into the garden. The apple trees are bearing fruit, and I wonder if I’ll have a chance to pick them soon.

The front door opens, and I know that I’m toast.

“Amelia Fortescue!” yells Aunt Susan. She bursts into the kitchen, flinging her work bag onto the floor.

I try to keep my tone cheerful. “Hello, Aunt--”

“Oh don’t carry on like nothing’s the matter!” she snaps.

“My dear, why don’t you take off your cloak?” Uncle Michael asks quietly as he appears behind her. “And your shoes.”

Aunt Susan stays firmly rooted, taking off her traveling clothes and dumping them into Uncle Michael’s hands. Her eyes never leave me.

“I cannot-- _absolutely_ cannot believe what happened today!” she screeches. “Amelia, _how_ could you? And after everything that your Uncle Michael and I did for you to get you into the Ministry!”

I remain seated, wrapping my clammy hands around my mug of tea. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Aunt Susan,” I say matter-of-factly.

“You’re sorry that I feel--? Amelia! _What about sorry for what you did?_ How can you parade into the Law Enforcement Office and create a scene of such ridicule?” She stands at the head of the table, glaring down at me. Her face is blotchy, and her bun is starting to become unraveled. “Have you _any_ idea what this means?”

“I take it that it doesn’t bode well for me,” I answer. I take a sip of my cold tea. Earlier, I put too much honey in it, so I have to suffer through the sweetness.

“It bloody well doesn’t!” shouts Aunt Susan.

I nod.

“For Merlin’s sake! You’re acting as if you don’t care!” Aunt Susan proclaims. “And how can you not? Do you know how many strings I had to pull to get you that job?”

“I’m sure you did a lot of work on that front,” I tell her.

“Amelia, please be kind to Susan,” Uncle Michael says as he comes back from hanging up Aunt Susan’s things. He takes a seat across from me. 

“I am being kind,” I say. “I’m acknowledging her efforts to get me into the Ministry--”

“Which you threw away because you decided to throw a tantrum!” shouts Aunt Susan. Her trembling hands rest on the back of Uncle Michael’s chair. “Why, why did you do it, Amelia? What can you possibly want with the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement?”

I cross my arms. “It’s clear that they don’t want to hear from me.”

“And they bloody well shouldn’t! Haven’t you given them enough grief?” Aunt Susan exclaims exasperatedly.

At this point, I stand, hands trembling. “That very well may be. But I had no other choice.”

Aunt Susan tuts, facing away from me. Uncle Michael, in an attempt to simmer down the rising tensions, slowly stands. “Amelia,” he begins in a steady voice, “you have to start taking responsibility for your actions. I think you did have other choices. You just acted immaturely--”

“And irresponsibly and rudely and with no regard for any of the consequences!” finishes Aunt Susan ruthlessly. She turns around, taking a couple steps towards me. Tears have appeared in her eyes. “Amelia, I _wish_ that you would be honest with us.”

“I am. I admit what happened today is my fault,” I tell her. _Well, not entirely,_ I think silently to myself.

“No, that’s not all of it!” she cries. “You’re so withdrawn from everyone. I wish that you would let us help you.”

“I’m not withdrawn,” I protest, though I hardly even convince myself.

“Yes, you are,” Uncle Michael says. “You spend most of your time in your room when you’re at home. And you’re acting like you don’t care that the research committee doesn’t want you back after today.”

“And this isn’t the first time that this has happened.” Aunt Susan wipes a tear away from her eye. “Even while you were at school, you have kept to yourself, never letting anyone in.”

“That’s not true. I have friends,” I retort.

“But you never see them now! What eighteen year old witch doesn’t want to be around her friends?”

I shrug. “Perhaps I’m different.”

“Merlin’s beard, Amelia!” Aunt Susan sobs, and Uncle Michael puts a comforting arm around her. “What is with you lately?”

Sighing, I take a look at the clock. It’s nearly time when we eat dinner, but I don’t think we’ll be eating on time tonight. “Aunt Susan, I’m so sorry that you feel this way. Really, I am. And I truly appreciate that you and Uncle Michael worked so hard to get me into the Ministry and everything that happened before then.”

“Yes, Amelia, I know that,” Aunt Susan sniffs, “But I wish that you would tell me what’s the matter with you!”

I’m at a loss of words, so I say nothing. I can’t get her mixed up in this Hallows business. Too many people have already gotten hurt.

“Amelia, I think it’s best that you go upstairs and write a letter of apology to Professor Penrose at the Ministry,” Uncle Michael says. “And don’t think this is the last conversation we’ll have on today’s events.”

“Of course, Uncle Michael.” I leave the kitchen, but I linger, hidden, by the doorway as I hear Aunt Susan speak.   
  
“Michael, did we do anything wrong with that one?”

“No, no, dear,” he consoles.

“But I feel like it’s my fault!” cries Aunt Susan. Her voice is thick with tears. “I’ve tried to support her every step of the way, even when she was under interrogation from the Ministry after the funeral... “

“Of course, dear. You’ve been an excellent mother to her.”

“Then why does she act this way?” she wails.

“I think,” Uncle Michael says after a couple moments of her quiet sobbing, “you’ve done a marvelous job. Amelia is a troubled young woman, and it’ll take time for her to heal.”

“But doesn’t she see that we want to help her?” exclaims Aunt Susan. “That we want to provide a loving home for her?”

I can’t bear to listen anymore. Uncle Michael’s reply is muffled as I quietly make my way upstairs.

My throat is tight, and my eyes are itchy. But no tears come.

A little while after writing my letter to Professor Penrose, Uncle Michael comes into my room. I rest my hands on my stomach and watch the flames from my candles dance across the ceiling.

“I’ve brought you a sandwich and some tea,” he says, placing them on my desk.

Without looking, I say, “Thank you.”

“Amelia, I wish you wouldn’t spend all of your time up here.”

“I don’t. I have a job… well, _had_ a job at the Ministry...” My voice trails off. I wish with every fibre of my being that he would leave, but I know that won’t be the case.

“About that…”

“I’ll go back to Ollivander’s shop.”

“Oh, Amelia…that job was seasonal part time. You can’t do that forever.” I can feel his brown eyes stare at me, but I continue to look upwards.

“Ollivander’s getting on. It will do some good being around every once in awhile,” I say simply.

“It would do some good for you to be around here every once in awhile, too. You know, outside of your room, interacting with us,” Uncle Michael says, sitting on my bed. He pats my knee. “To see you truly here, not lost in your thoughts.”

I don’t reply. The shadows from the flames twist and turn in dizzying spirals. I long to move with them, aglow with the sheer might of the flames.

“Right. Well then,” Uncle Michael sighs. He groans as he stands up. “Please eat at least half of your sandwich. Good night.”

“Good night.”

“I mean it about the sandwich,” he warns before closing the door. Finally, he’s gone.

I continue to lie on my bed, listening to his steps retreat downstairs. After a moment, a voice says, “They’ve grown to love you, you know.”

I turn to my side, curling my legs to my stomach, facing my grandfather, Florean, who’s standing by my window. “I know,” I say quietly. I do know this, but it’s almost more than I can bear.

“You should trust them,” he says. “You don’t have to carry all burdens alone.” Even in the semi-transparent echo, his eyes reflect the glow of the candles. He gently crosses his arms, tilting his head to the side.

“Easier said than done,” I groan. “I’ve made a right mess of things, haven’t I?”

“You’re young, my dear,” Florean says kindly. “And if I were still alive… well, I would have helped you in any way I could... I would have loved you so very much, being your grandfather.”

These words are almost too much for me, but somehow I manage a choked response. “Thanks…I think you would’ve made an amazing grandfather...” I return to lying on my back, watching the ceiling again. The Resurrection Stone is covered in sweat from my hands. After a while, I say, “I’m tired now. I want to go to sleep.”

“All right, dear,” Florean says tenderly. “Sleep well, Amelia. I’m never too far away.”

I let go of the Resurrection Stone, and he disappears.

It is a warm September, but I soon throw a blanket over me due to chills. I must have drifted to sleep because it’s about half four in the morning when someone bangs on the front door, shaking the whole house awake.

* * *

“Are you sure this will lead us to certain doom?”

“Very sure. If we pull the lever, we’ll be done for,” I said. “Look here and here. These Runes contradict the entire syntax of our translation so far.”

James leaned closer to our Egyptian Runes, squinting down at the parchment. His glasses slid a bit down the bridge of his nose, but he didn’t seem to notice. We were at our usual spot in the library, and we were within the final few (complicated) steps of our project.

“Blimey,” he breathed. “Then what d’you reckon we do?”

“Not sure... “ I quickly calculated possible things we may have overlooked. There must have been something in our class notes that I might have missed or perhaps in a book that I didn’t read closely enough.

“What’s that?”

“Huh?” I looked up at him, not following. He wasn’t staring at the Runes in front of us.

“You play with that old chain around your neck,” he said, pointing. “What is it?”

I suddenly realized that the golden chain was between my thumb and index finger. I dropped the chain.“Nothing really. Just a necklace,” I replied. I picked up my quill, so my absent minded fingers wouldn’t give me away again.

“What of?”

“What? Why do you want to know?” I asked, confused, turning to a pile of parchment which consisted of all of my notes on Ancient Egyptian Runes.

“Why do you want to keep it a secret?” James asked. When I didn’t reply, he coaxed, “Come on, now. I’m intrigued to know the secret.”

“It’s not a secret… I just don’t show it to other people,” I told him matter-of-factly, glancing up.

“You’ll make an exception with me, yeah?” James flashed a smile.

“Why are you so interested in a piece of jewelry?”

“I’m curious to know what that is.”

I looked around the library. Since it was so close to dinner time, it was empty. Seeing no end to James’ curiosity and perhaps feeling like it was time to actually tell someone about it, I reluctantly pulled my grandfather’s pendant from my shirt.

“Here. My mum gave it to me. It belonged to my grandfather,” I explained.

James studied it, leaning across the table. “May I?” he asked, gesturing towards it.

“Sure.” I pulled the chain off my neck and handed it over to him.

James traced the outline of the pendant. “Do you know what it is?” I shook my head. “Strange,” he mused, looking back up to me. “I’ve seen this before.”

Interest engulfed my hesitance. “Really? Where?” I asked, scooting to the edge of my chair. Anticipation built up in my stomach.

James scratched the top of his head. “Not sure… I think I came across it when I was trying to read a book in Runes…”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh? Since when do you like to read in Runes?”

A small blush crawled up his neck. “It’s not a habit,” he explained. “I was waiting for my cousins to get ready to play Quidditch.”

“Well, it’s nothing to be bashful about,” I said, amused. “I think it’s perfectly admirable to read a text in Runes. Do you remember the book?”

James pondered a moment. “I think I do… Shall I retrieve it for us over the Easter holidays?” he asked. His eyes lit up at the prospect.

I bit my lip, unsure of how to interpret James’ interest. The reluctance sunk its teeth back into me. “What? You want to… what?”

“Don’t you want to know what this means?” he asked.

“Yes…”

“Then let me find the book. We can try to figure it out.”

“But why?” I asked, extending my palm to retrieve the pendant back.

James smiled again. “Remember what I said a few weeks back? I like adventures. This one seems to be too good to miss. A mysterious pendant belonging to your grandfather, given to you by your mother… Just think of what it could mean!” He gently placed the pendant back into my hand.

“Okay…” I trailed off, uncertain. James was still smiling.

“Brilliant. I’ll poke around my family’s libraries over the holidays. I would recognize the book if I saw it.”

I nodded as I put the pendant around my neck, tucking it neatly under my shirt. “Okay. Just don’t tell anyone about it. My mother doesn’t want other people knowing.”

“Oooh, a family secret. How mysterious,” James whispered. “Mum’s the word, literally.”

Though I was sitting, my body felt jolted, like it suddenly was moving too fast. I gripped onto the table to anchor me. “Thank you… I think we’ve had enough for today. Dinner’s already started.”

“Blimey you’re right. C’mon, let’s walk to the Great Hall together,” James said, gathering his things. My breath caught in my throat at the thought.

As we were walking towards dinner when James asked, “About your mum… you live with your aunt and uncle, right?”

“They’re technically my cousins, but yeah.”

“Where’s your mum, then? I thought that maybe… I dunno, that maybe you didn’t have parents,” James said hesitantly.

“I do. My mum’s had a demanding career outside the country. Never met my dad, though my mum assures me that he’s a wizard… as if that matters.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Not really, no. Muggle or wizard, he doesn’t have a place in my life,” I said flatly.

“Huh. A Slytherin nonplussed over blood status…”

“How modern,” I finished for him, rather sternly. “Lots of us don’t really care, not anymore, you know.” There was a bang and a laugh that was quickly getting closer. “Shh! Listen.” I put my arm out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Peeves,” James muttered. He took my arm, leading me to a passageway behind a tapestry just as Peeves rounded the corner. “It sounds like he’s up to something nasty.” He let go of my arm, but I could feel the heat from his touch.

I silently grabbed a few pieces of parchment from my bag. “Hold these,” I whispered. James obliged, and I swished my wand, making them into paper airplanes.

“What are you--?”

“Shh,” I said, opening the tapestry a crack. I whispered the charm, and like bullets, the whizzed out of James’ hands and through the opening. When Peeves swore loudly, I grabbed James’s hand. “Run!” I mouthed, and together we ran away from the scene before Peeves could know it was us.

“That--was-- _awesome_!” panted James as we rounded the entrance hall.

“He had it coming, throwing pellets at first years last week, even after I told him off,” I huffed. I opened the door to the Great Hall.

“Are you fully avenged?” James asked, smiling down at me.

“For now,” I said coolly. He laughed.

“I wouldn’t want to cross you,” James said. “I feel sorry for those who do. They’d better watch out.” He gave a friendly wave before walking towards the Gryffindor table.

“Good. You’re next!” I said after him. He stopped, turning around.

“What?”

“Bye James. See you later!” I called sweetly, quickly walking towards the Slytherin table, smirking. I noticed a few of my classmates were staring at me, and suddenly felt like my skirt was caught in my waistband or my hair was halfway out of its bun. I rigidly took a seat next to Victoria. “What’s for dinner? I’m so hungry.”

“Where were you?” she hissed, glancing over at the other girls in our year. Fallon Gamp leaned into the group and whispered something, which caused the girls to snicker. I rolled my eyes.

“Trying to finish that Ancient Runes project. Now pass the potatoes. I’m famished.”

As Victoria, saying nothing but burning with a thousand unsaid words, passed me a bowl of mashed potatoes, my classmates returned to their own dinners.

Later that evening, when we were in our usual corner in the common room, finishing a Potions assignment, she asked, “Do you fancy him?”

“Who?” I asked, dipping my quill into my inkwell.

Victoria rolled her eyes, leaning closer to me. Her raven black hair covered her essay. “Don’t be daft! James Potter.”

I stared at her for a moment. “Why are you asking?”

“Hello, dinner tonight? You came late and were in cahoots over something,” she explained. “The others were commenting on you before you came, too. Seems like you’re spending a lot of time with him.”

“We are working on this killer Ancient Runes project,” I said.

“I know that you’re taking N.E.W.T. level Ancient Runes, but is that all that’s between you two?” she asked.

I rested my quill on the table. James was a pretty good study partner, though he sometimes got distracted, which was sometimes annoying but sometimes a welcomed distraction. Tonight, when we had to hide from Peeves and run from him, I had the most fun I had in a long time. Was it because I was with James? Or was it because I was able to get back at Peeves?

“Er, hello?” Victoria prompted.

No, it was definitely because I was with James. There was something there, something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Was it his determination to help with uncovering the meaning of my grandfather’s pendant? Or his sense of humor? Or, as I fully acknowledged to myself, his good looks? Or his curious intellect? “Now that you mention it,” I began slowly, “I am rather taken with him."

“Shut up, no way!” exclaimed Victoria, absolutely beaming. Things like this excited her. “For how long? Has he asked you out yet?”

I rolled my eyes. “Calm down! I’ve only just figured this out. Not sure if I’ll let it grow into something bigger…”

“Oh, come on, Amelia!” breathed Victoria as she squirmed around in her armchair. “You _must_ give it a chance. I think he’s rather taken with you, too! I don’t know what you said to him before coming to the table tonight--and by the way, I’m _still_ waiting for that story--but he looked absolutely bewildered and seemed perfectly happy about it.”

I laughed. “You’re a romantic, Victoria, that’s for sure. Are you finished with the Potions homework? I’ll tell you about it once we’re both done.”

“Ugh, you’re too good with this finishing homework stuff,” Victoria complained. She looked down at her essay and frowned. “But with the promise of a juicy story--and it _better_ be juicy--I’ll finish it.” She dipped her quill vigorously into the inkwell.

“Don’t let your hopes get too high,” I warned her before returning to my work, though I, too, found it hard to finish. My thoughts returned to him.


	7. Crushed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To not call it a crush would have made me a denier.

The Easter holidays passed in a flurry of disbelief and budding panic. How could I have showed James my grandfather’s pendant? It dwindled down to the conversation, well, several accounting Victoria’s interest to elaborate on it, about my fondness of him.

To not call it a crush would have made me a denier.

Sure, I had fleeting crushes in the past. One of them even amounted to something in my fourth year: a memorable if not a little awkward afternoon in Hogsmeade with Demetrius Castor, who was a Hufflepuff in my year. But, as I mentioned, it was fleeting.

The uncertainty of my feelings swirled around my body, flaming out when I least expected it to: during breakfast and family Quidditch or even when I brushed my teeth one night. It’s not like I thought that James was the perfect boy or anything. Sometimes I found him overbearing and too unfocused. I knew that there would be other things about him that I wouldn’t like. Perhaps, in my confusion at my feelings towards him, I was determined to find things I didn’t like about him.

But deep down, I did enjoy his company: the way he tried to be funny, the (few) times he _actually_ was, his generally enthusiastic disposition towards life. Not to mention I liked his dark curls and dusted freckles and the way his glasses sat on his nose…

We were nearly finished with the project for Ancient Runes. I wondered what would happen next. Would James even remember to find the book with the triangular eye Rune? And if so, would he even be successful in finding it?

And then there was the population of Hogwarts to consider. Rumors were not guaranteed to be kind, especially since James Potter was quite popular, and I did not have the same social standing as him. I knew that I didn’t need others’ approval to do anything, but I felt like a tiny island with the incoming tide threatening to devour it.

Aunt Susan noticed.

“Amelia, let me plait your hair,” she said the morning Eddie and I were supposed to go back to Hogwarts. Helen, who wasn’t at Hogwarts yet, spent all of breakfast holding back tears.

“Chin up. You’ll be coming with us next time,” Eddie had said. They were now outside playing a final round of one-on-one Quidditch.

Aunt Susan held up a brush. “Sit here,” she told me, pointing to a kitchen chair.

“Er, okay,” I mumbled.

“There, isn’t this nice? I’ll miss being able to do your hair while you’re back at school,” she said as she ran the brush through my dark locks.

“I guess so,” I agreed, shrugging.

“Hold still, dear!” chided Aunt Susan. I could imagine the face she was making while standing behind me: her lips pursed and her brow furrowed.

“Sorry!”

“It’ll be fine.” There was a pause. “Are you excited to go back to Hogwarts?”

“Sure.”

“Are you looking forward to your classes?”

“Yeah.”

“And prefect duty?”

“Even that.”

We laughed. Aunt Susan began weaving my hair at the top of my head. “Is everything okay, though? You seem on edge.”

“I’m in fifth year. Of course I’m on edge! The O.W.L.s are coming up and then there’s--” I stopped myself, feeling a blush blossom across my cheeks.

“And then there’s what?” Aunt Susan asked.

“Well, hormones,” I confessed. That much was definitely true. “Do you know how stifling it can be living with a bunch of teenagers in one small space?”

“Hogwarts is hardly small,” Aunt Susan mused. “But I know the feeling… Is anyone bothering you?”

“Not really.”

“Not really? My, my. Then there’s something. Care to elaborate?”

“There’s not much to elaborate on,” I muttered. Aunt Susan was nearly done with the plait.

“Is someone picking on you?”

“No!”

“Then does someone like you?”

I blinked in surprise, turning my head towards her. “What?”

“Hold still! Gah, now I have to redo this part!” Aunt Susan exclaimed. She unfurled some of the plait and continued to prompt me. “So then there’s a special someone. He likes you, or you like him…”

My blush deepened. I silently cursed Aunt Susan for probing. If anyone other than Victoria at Hogwarts asked such questions, I would have to strengthen my demeanor to remain unflustered. “It’s the latter,” I finally confessed.

“Oh thank Merlin!” she beamed.

“Exactly how is this a happy occasion?”  
  
“Because,” began Aunt Susan as she finished tying the end of my plait. “You’re having a perfectly normal experience. I’ve been worried about you this year, after you mum’s visit--”

“That was ages ago, before Christmas!” I said indignantly.

“But you haven’t fully recovered. You’re still upset about it,” Aunt Susan said as she sat down in the chair next to me. Her brown eyes twinkled. “Now, you’re perking up”  
  
I scrunched my nose. “I don’t need a boy to perk me up!”

Aunt Susan smiled, taking my hands. “I _know_ that, dear, but just the fact that you’ve opened your mind and your heart to like someone else…. It makes me so incredibly happy and proud.”

I rolled my eyes, though a smile was tugging at my lips. “And it’s not really perking up,” I contradicted. “It’s rather forlorning. I don’t know what to do.”

“Does he like you, too?”

I shrugged.

“Are you interested in pursuing him?”  
  
I shrugged.

“Well then,” breathed Aunt Susan, “it seems like you have some soul searching to do. My advice? Go for it. It’s nice getting to know someone and dating. It can even be fun.”

“And dealing with the others?” I gulped.“Others? You mean your classmates?” Aunt Susan tapped her chin. “I know teenagers can be brutal. Try to not listen to any judgements or criticisms. It’s perfectly okay for you to like someone. No one has the right to tell you otherwise... Can I know the identity of this mystery boy?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, Aunt Susan. It’s the early stages. No use setting expectations yet.”

To my surprise, she smiled. **  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

The knocking on the front door persists as my heart finally slows down after the initial shock of it all. The vibrations from the force below tickle my toes as a I pull a jumper over my head. Uncle Michael swears as he thuds down the steps, and I follow him, clutching my wand.

“Who can it be at half hour in the morning?” yawns Aunt Susan from upstairs.

“Hello?” Uncle Michael asks gruffly at the door. From the banister, Aunt Susan magicks some candles, flooding the foyer with light.

I hear a deep voice answer, but I’m standing at the foot of the stairs, too far away to hear who it is. Uncle Michael nods and faces me.

“Brace yourself,” he tells me.

“What? Who’s there?” Aunt Susan demands as she cascades down the stairs, stopping at my elbow.

Without answering, Uncle Michael opens the door, stepping aside to let our late visitors inside. My breath catches in my throat, and the room tilts sideways.

Harry Potter stops in his tracks when he sees me. An Auror I don’t know limps behind him, and another Auror is still hidden from view, but I know who it is as soon as I hear her ask, “Is she there? Where’s Fortescue?"

Aunt Susan grips onto my shoulder.

“Hello, Amelia,” Harry says grimly as Auror Barrett finally comes inside. Uncle Michael closes the front door and steps in front of me.

“Care for some tea?” Uncle Michael asks.

“We don’t have time--” Auror Barrett begins, but Harry holds up his hand to silence her.

“That would be good, thank you, Michael,” he says. His green eyes return to me, and I find myself unable to maintain eye contact. I can feel Auror Barrett’s scathing look burning at the side of my face.

_Oh Merlin, here it is. I’m in heaps of trouble,_ I think as Uncle Michael leads all of us into the kitchen. Aunt Susan’s grip tightens on my shoulder.

“Why are they here?” she hisses into my ear. I shake my head in answer.

“I’m so sorry we have to intrude like this,” the third Auror says as he limps over to kitchen table. I notice the dust on his robes and a scratch on his cheek. Uncle Michael waves off the apology as he fills the kettle with water.

“Susan, Michael, we need to talk to Amelia,” Harry says solemnly. “You’re welcome to stay in here, as you’re her guardians, but she’s of age, so you’re not required--”

“We’re staying,” interrupts Aunt Susan stiffly. “Please, have a seat at the table.”

Harry and the male Auror sit. Auror Barrett stands behind them and folds her arms. Her gaze hasn’t left me.

“Amelia, why don’t you take a seat?” Harry offers. He gestures to the seat across from him. Without protest, I sit where he indicated. Aunt Susan fills the seat next to me. Harry looks at me from across the table, frowning. His glasses are a tad crooked, and there’s also dust scattered in his hair. I can’t bring myself to look at the legendary lightning scar.

“Hello,” I say rather breathlessly. Goose pimples erupt across my arms and legs.

“Amelia, we need to know if you had information regarding tonight’s attacks.”

My muscles stiffen, and my eyes widen. I hear Uncle Michael and Aunt Susan move in shock, but I can’t see them as my periphery vision becomes fuzzy.

“What attacks?” I finally ask. My voice is muted and rather high-pitched.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with us!” snaps Auror Barrett.

“Barrett, enough. Let Potter do the talking,” the third Auror says.

“Thank you, Peakes,” Harry says without looking at his colleagues. Instead, he continues to study me. “So are you saying that you knew nothing about tonight’s attacks?”

I shake my head. “No… Is everything okay? Is anyone hurt?”

“What happened?” Aunt Susan asks.

Harry ignores our questions and sighs. “You see, Amelia, it seems suspicious that hours before what happened tonight, you showed up at the Auror office.”

_And we’ve arrived to what I’ve done,_ I think.

“Harry, we’ve already spoken to Amelia about this,” Susan says. “I don’t think she had any knowledge about whatever happened tonight.”

The kettle whistles, and Uncle Michael begins to get tea for everyone. He’s the type of person who needs to keep busy when he’s nervous and upset.

“That very well may be,” Harry tells her, “But we need to hear it from her.” He turns back to me. All I can think about is hiding under my covers, wishing everyone and everything away. Finally, I find my voice.

“No. I don’t know anything about what happened tonight.”  
  
“Then why did you come by my office today...er, yesterday?” Harry asks grimly as he checks his watch.

I look to the other two Aurors, who are both staring at me. “I wanted to speak with you about something else,” I say.

“Well, I’m listening now,” Harry says. “What is it?”

I shake my head.

“Amelia!” cries Aunt Susan in exasperation. “ _Please_ be cooperative, darling!”

“I want to be, but I can only tell Mr. Potter,” I say quietly. “No one else.” Uncle Michael puts down the tea tray on the table and begins to pour tea for the Aurors.

Auror Barrett starts to open her mouth to say something but catches herself. Harry continues to study me. “Are you sure it has nothing to do with tonight’s attacks?”  
  
“Where were they?” I ask him.

“Two places. Headquarters of _The Quibbler_ and a square in an old Muggle village.”

“Did… that lot do it?” Uncle Michael asks, handing Harry a mug. I know that he’s referring to my mother and her minions.

“We believe so,” Harry answers. “No one’s been killed as far as we know, but several have been injured.”

I don’t find myself sharing the same relief as my aunt and uncle. “No, I don’t believe my information is connected.... But I’ll let you decide,” I say. I stand, and Auror Barrett draws out her wand.

“Where are you going, Amelia?” Aunt Susan asks. 

“I need to get my information. That is… if Mr. Potter is willing to be my sole audience.”  
  
He contemplates me for a moment. “All right then. Where shall we talk?”

“Outside, by the apple trees,” I say. “That way, we won’t be interrupted.” My eyes go to Auror Barrett, whose cheeks redden.

“Sir, I don’t think that’s--”  
  
“Barrett, I’ll share any information I deem fit to be shared,” Harry says. I nod, hoping that won’t be the case. I begin to leave.

“Sir, we should follow--”

“Oh, come on,” I interject, rolling my eyes. “I’m not running away. Let me get what I need. I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for an answer, I dash upstairs. Nausea gnaws at me. Somehow, doing this here, at my home, makes it worse than if I did this as the Ministry. I enter my room and retrieve the Resurrection Stone. I think of James, and no one appears in my room.

_Good. He’s alive._ After tonight’s attacks, I was uncertain. But I do know that it’s time to say goodbye. And it’s not going to be easy.

“Hello, Amelia,” my grandfather says. “How are you?” I can barely see him in the darkness.

“No time,” I whisper in a rush. “Harry Potter’s here. I’m telling him about the Stone, and he might take it away from me.”

“Harry Potter? I used to give him ice cream when he came to my shop as a boy,” he says fondly.

“I know,” I reply quietly, pushing back memories that have only now flooded forth.

My grandfather studies my pained expression. “If he’s here, then this is must be goodbye.” He takes a step closer, reaching a hand to me.

My throat tightens. “Yes, it is. For now…”

Our hands meet, or they’re supposed to, anyway. They go through each other, never touching. I will never be able to feel the warmth of my grandfather’s touch.

“I’m proud of you, my dear,” he tells me. “You’ve done so much, and I know you’ll do more great things.”

“Are they great?” I ask thickly. “There are times I’m not sure…”

His dark eyes search mine. “Amelia, we all must live with the choices we make. Know your mind. Know your heart.”

I give a watery smile. “Thank you. I’ll try. They’re waiting for me downstairs.”

He nods. “Go to them. Live your life. I hope you find some peace, my dear girl.”

“Goodbye,” I whisper, as I place the Resurrection Stone into my pocket. Grabbing some parchment, I dash back downstairs. “Got it,” I breathe as I reenter the kitchen. Uncle Michael has laid out some toast for everyone. Auror Peakes is spreading some of Aunt Susan’s homemade strawberry jam onto it.

“Okay. You wanted to talk outside?” Harry gestures to the back door.

“Yes. Let’s go by the apple trees. I’ve been meaning to check for ripe apples.” I take a basket and lead him outside.

“Stay here, Barrett,” Harry says as he follows me. She makes a noise of indignation before shutting the door. “Well?” he asks as we reach the trees.

I can feel Barrett’s glare coming from the window. Taking out my wand, I mutter, “Muffliato.”

Harry tenses for a moment as I quickly put my wand away. “James taught you that, didn’t he?” he muses. I focus on the bits of parchment in my hand. Without looking at him, I say, “Take these and open them like you’re reading something.”

Harry accepts them. “Barrett’s watching?” he asks as he pretends to read through the parchment.

“Yes,” I confirm. I face away from the house, holding the basket in front of me. “Hold on a tic. Let me get everything in place.” Carefully, I place the Stone into it before scanning for a few apples from some of the lower branches.

“Amelia, get to the point,” Harry sighs. “What’s so important that you have to be escorted from the Auror office in such an outrageous manner? Especially after shouting ‘Peverell’ for all the world to hear?”

“I needed to get your attention,” I explain. “Which, clearly, I have now only gotten.” I place a couple apples into the basket and turn around to face him. “You’ll see it in the corner of the basket. This is what I need to show you.”

Harry takes the basket from me; his back is to the house, so no one can see what he’s looking at. He squints down at the Stone before looking back up at me.

“What is this?”

“You know what it is,” I tell him as I pick another apple from the tree. “The Resurrection Stone.”

“That’s impossible,” he says. “This was lost years ago.” He carefully picks it up to examine it.

“Well, it’s found now.” I toss a couple apples into the basket. “And it works. James is alive.”

* * *

The scenery to Hogwarts rolled by. I was aching to be with Victoria and some of our other friends, but I had prefect duty, which meant I got to weave in and out of excited teenagers on a speeding train. This was not one of my favorite tasks as a prefect, but at least I didn’t have duty again until the very next week.

“Oi, we walk on the train!” I called after a rowdy group, most of whom were redheaded Weasleys. They, of course, ignored me.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me inside a compartment.

“Bloody hell!” I exclaimed. Looking up, I saw James. His dark hair was a ruffled mess, and his usual smile was subdued as he got a proper look at me. This was not how I pictured our first encounter after the Easter holidays.

“Amelia, I’m glad to have managed a second alone with you,” he said hurriedly. His hand was still on my arm, and he pulled me closer to him, away from the compartment door. My stomach, betraying me, gave a lurch.

“Yeah. What’s up?” I asked, glancing around an empty train compartment. He and I both knew that it wouldn’t be empty for long.

“I found the book,” he told me grimly. “I have it with me.” He drew an old book from his robes. “ _Please_ be careful with it. It’s not mine, nor my parents’.”

“Okay,” I said, glancing down at the cover. “Oh, children’s stories…”

“Quick! Put it away before someone sees,” James hissed. I looked back up at him, and he was frowning.

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked as I put it in my robe’s inner pocket. James adjusted his glasses, glancing at the compartment door.

“Nothing! It’s just… are you sure this symbol of yours is a family thing?” he asked solemnly.

“My mother insisted on it,” I replied darkly. “Why? What’s the matter with it?”

James shushed me. “Not here. Take a look through the book. We’ll talk once you do.” He led me back to the door.

“Okay, I will,” I said as he opened the door. I faced him in the threshold. “Thank you for the book.”

James shook his head. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said as he closed the door.


	8. The Circumstances for Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t expecting this.

“Thank God,” Harry sighs as he unclenches his fist. I wonder who he has called back from the dead. Long ago, James showed me pictures of Harry’s family and friends. He could summon heaps of them from the dead, pulling himself back to those who loved him. I could barely handle my grandfather whom I had never met. “He is alive…” The relief behind his voice causes my stomach to twist uncomfortably as a vice tightens around my lungs.

“I know,” I tell him quietly. I’ve taken the basket of apples from him and have put in a few more. Harry staggers forward, and I grab him by the arm and lead him to a stone bench a few steps away from the apple trees. We sit down together with our backs to the house. Harry’s trembling shakes the bench a little bit.

“Where did you get this?” Harry asks.

“By owl post. Someone sent it to me.”

“Do you know who sent it? Or do you remember the owl?”

“I have a few ideas of who could have sent it to me, though I can’t be certain. No idea how they found it, though. And the owl evaporated in a puff of smoke…”

“Who do you think sent it to you?”

“My mother,” I answer bitterly. “Or Cassius Vaisey.”

Harry ponders silently for a moment. The dawn birds begin to chirp in one of the few remaining summer sunrises. The dew on the grass has soaked through my trainers. “A warning then,” Harry says.

Chills run down my spine. Finally, the words are spoken aloud. Crossing my arms, I stare into the distance at the brightening sky. “He’s still out there…” My voice fades away.

“The search for him hasn’t stopped,” Harry informs me, but I’m fairly certain he has said this to reassure himself, too.

“The Stone will help,” I say quietly. “To check to see if he’s… he’s still alive.”

“Amelia…” Harry trails off. He rubs the scar on his forehead. “Look, I won’t pretend that you know nothing about the Hallows. Whatever you and… and James discovered while at Hogwarts, well, that’s a part of you now.” He shifts towards me. “But be reminded of this. The Hallows are deadly. Promise me you won’t go looking for the others.”

An exasperated laugh escapes my lips. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” I say.

“Promise me.”

“Okay, okay. I promise that I won’t go looking for the other Hallows.” My eyes find his. It’s all that I can do to not shy away from the sheer amount of seriousness behind his gaze. I get the sense that he doesn’t fully believe me, and I don’t blame him.

“Good. Now, you’re a smart witch. I’m sure you know that I’ll have to take the Resurrection Stone into my custody,” Harry continues.

“As Head Auror or as James’ parent?”

His lips tug into a small smile as he shakes his head a bit. “You’d’ve made a pretty good Auror,” he says. “But to answer your question, this is for the Ministry.”

“Ah, okay then,” I say slowly. “I suppose that’s for the best…” Closing my eyes, I sigh. “I hope it’s useful to you in your search for James, as an Auror and as his father.”  
  
I can feel Harry stand up next to me. I reopen my eyes in time to see him discreetly put the Stone into his pocket. “Thank you, Amelia.” I take the basket and stand up, facing him. He takes off his glasses and rubs the dust off of them with the inside of his cloak. “If you have any more information, I’ll make sure you can tell me directly,” he says.

“Oh, um… that’s good to know,” I reply awkwardly. I wasn’t expecting this.

“You know…” Harry begins. He puts his hands in his pockets and rocks on his feet for a moment. “You know, speaking as his father, I can see now how much James meant to you. Means to you.” He pauses. “And I know how much you meant to James.”

“Let’s go back inside,” I say suddenly, turning away from him and walking across the garden. I can feel Harry’s stare in the back of my neck, and I hear him follow me after a few strides. My lips tremble, and I try to steady them before I reach the others.

“Sir? Any news we can use?” Barrett asks impatiently when we enter the house. Uncle Michael and Aunt Susan stand at both of my sides.

Harry waves off her advances. “Amelia’s told me everything that I need to know,” he answers firmly. “And we’ll leave it at that for now.”

Auror Barrett scoffs as Auror Peakes stands.

“C’mon. Let’s go. We need to get your leg properly looked after, Peakes,” Harry says. When the Aurors reach the front door, Harry turns to my aunt and uncle. “Thank you for your hospitality at such an early hour. I’m sorry we had to intrude like this.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Aunt Susan says as she rests her hand on my shoulders. “I’m glad you were able to speak to Amelia.”

“I am, too. Keep an eye on each other. There are dangerous wizards out there,” Harry says as the three Aurors step outside onto the front porch.

“We will,” Uncle Michael assures them.

Harry looks at me. “Remember what we agreed on, Amelia.” Auror Barrett fumes in the background, glaring at me.

I nod. “Of course.”

Harry nods back in grim affirmation at me as Uncle Michael closes the door. “I suppose you won’t tell us what’s happened?” he asks.

“I can’t,” I tell him.

“Really, Amelia,” scoffs Aunt Susan. I break away from her and take refuge on the staircase. “We’re on your side.”

“I know you are.” I begin to make my way up the stairs. My eyes are itchy from little sleep, and my body aches from the weight of everything.

“You can trust us, Amelia,” Aunt Susan pleads.

I linger for a moment on the steps. “I trusted James. Look how that turned out.” Without another word or glance, I retreat in my bedroom, wishing for sleep but knowing that it won’t come.

* * *

I had read through James’ book three times when we finally caught up. I was, as per usual, sitting at my favorite spot in the library. This study table happened to be near the Restricted Section, so not many people wandered over here. Also, there was a window looking over the Forbidden Forest. Sometimes, I liked to watch the trees move in the wind or a flock of birds erupt into the air from the canopy.

“I didn’t see you at dinner,” James said as a greeting.

I had been watching the darkening sky and hadn’t noticed him. “Hi,” I breathed, willing my heartbeat to slow down. I suspected that the fright at his sudden appearance wasn’t the only reason behind my heart’s fast tempo. “I had a late lunch. Wasn’t hungry.”

To be honest, I had been in the library, combing over James’ book one last time, trying to make sense of it all.

“Ah, I see.” James pulled out the chair next to me, which didn’t help my beating heart. Normally, he sat across from me. “Well, you read the book then.”

I cleared my throat. “Yes. It was like stepping back into my childhood, but there are some parts that I don’t understand.”

James looked around to see if anyone was nearby. He leaned towards me and answered in a low voice, “How much do you know about the Second Wizarding War?”

“I’ve read some books--”

“Of course you have.”

“And I’ve heard my aunt and uncle and their friends talk about it. They were in Dumbledore’s Army and fought in the Battle of Hogwarts.” I turned to the page in James’ book where the symbol of my grandfather’s pendant appeared. “But I don’t really understand how that connects to this story.”

“‘The Tale of the Three Brothers’,” James murmured, leaning over so he could see the page. His finger traced the outline of the symbol. He sighed. “How much do you know about Voldemort and my father?”  
  
“The whole wizarding world knows about that,” I said. “Harry Potter was the Chosen One, able to defeat Lord Voldemort in the very end.”

James slowly nodded. His brown eyes stared into mine, and I could sense his discomfort and hesitancy. “Part of the reason why my dad could defeat Voldemort is because of this story, the supposed origins of the Deathly Hallows.”

“Deathly Hallows?” I asked, scrunching my nose. I glanced down at the book again.

“Yeah,” James confirmed. “Take a look at this symbol, the one on your pendant and in this book. You have the Elder Wand, the most powerful wand in the world, the Resurrection Stone, able to summon the dead, and the Invisibility Cloak, to wander around unseen, supposedly hiding from Death.”

“How has this to do with Voldemort and Harry Potter?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

I glared at James. He leaned back in surprise at my intense annoyance. “Sorry,” he said. “I meant that the Hallows are connected to my dad’s victory… like how the Elder Wand was used.”

“What?” I was incredulous. “Are you saying that these... _Hallows_...exist?”

James studied me for a moment. “Are you saying that they don’t?”

“I-I… I don’t know,” I confessed, shaking my head. “Sure, the wand can be real, and even the cloak, too, but Invisibility Cloaks fade with time, don’t they? And the Resurrection Stone… summoning the dead? I have a hard time buying that…"

James pondered for a moment, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. My stomach twisted and turned at his close proximity, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of my hormones or this new information. “Well, the Elder Wand exists, anyway. It helped my dad defeat Voldemort, who searched for the wand. He _killed_ for it.”

I swallowed, though my mouth had gone dry. “Okay, so the wand probably exists…”

“It does,” James said firmly. Then he hesitated. “Amelia… you said that your grandfather’s pendant is a family thing… Do you think that it’s possible that…?”

“That what?” I demanded, leaning towards him.

James furrowed his brow in a concerned sadness. “That your family are… or were… Death Eaters?”

“No,” I said flatly. “I was named after my cousin, Amelia Bones, who was murdered by Lord Voldemort. My own _grandfather_ was killed by him, and my mum--” I stopped, blanching. I looked out the window. Most of the colors of dusk were not swallowed by darkness.

“Your mum what?” James prompted quietly. When I didn’t answer him, he put his hand gently on my shoulder. As light as his touch was, it was one of the heaviest things I ever felt. I faced him again.

“She works out of the country, as you know,” I explained. A wave of horror washed over me. I couldn’t sit any longer. I pushed James’s hand away and stood.

“Amelia?”

The room was slanting. I staggered over to the window and opened it a crack to let the evening breeze rush in. I leaned my forehead against the cool, stone wall of the library and drank the fresh air.

“Amelia, are you all right?” James asked concernedly. I heard him come near the window.

“You’ve gotten me this far,” I began slowly, closing my eyes and focusing on the cooling sensation of the stone wall. “What I’m about to tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“What? Amelia, what’s going--?”

“Promise me,” I snapped. I looked over at him with such ferocity that he took a step back.

“I promise I won’t tell,” he breathed. I nodded and leaned my back against the wall. I swept my dark hair to the side to let the evening breeze touch my neck.

“Good… Okay. My mum was here last November, right before the detention we had together. That’s kind of _why_ I got into trouble in the first place. It was the first time I saw her since turning eleven, and her visit rattled me, put me on edge…”

“Okay.” I could tell that James was still confused.

“It wasn’t just the shock of her visit. It’s what she told me… and what she didn’t tell.” I glanced around to see if anyone else was nearby, like James had done earlier, and they, thankfully, weren’t. I drew out my grandfather’s pendant, which was the symbol for the Deathly Hallows. “She gave me this, explaining that it belonged to my grandfather, that this and what it stood for… runs in the family. But she didn’t say anything about what it means.”

James stared the pendant for a moment before locking eyes with me. “D’you reckon that it could be linked to the Death Eaters?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It _could_ be… but what my mum said implies that this stems further back in my family than the time of Voldemort.” I put the pendant back underneath my shirt.

“Maybe your grandfather wasn’t part of it. Maybe your mum was.”

I thought of The Cause, tempted to tell James. But I didn’t know what it was. Maybe The Cause was about Death Eaters and blood purity and Voldemort… but how did these so-called Hallows connect to that?

“I think,” I said as a closed the window, “I need to do more research.” I brushed past James and went back to the study table. The book, _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , was still open to the story with the Hallows.

“ _We_ need to do more research,” James corrected as he joined me.

“Why?” I asked him. “Why do you want to help me?”

For the first time that night, James smiled. “Don’t you remember? I love adventures, though I suspect that you’ll have us read a load of books...”

“But it doesn’t bode well, especially for the son of Harry Potter--”

“Look. You’re clearly upset about this. You could use another mind,” James interrupted. “I’m personally curious to know what this is about. It’s part of my dad’s story that has always been kinda vague to me, too. So, will you let me join you?”

I stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. The possibilities of how this could go wrong swirled around my mind. My heart began to race as I nodded. “Okay then.”

“Brilliant. I’ll finish the reflection on our Ancient Egyptian Runes project, so you can start looking for more information on the Hallows,” James said. His tone became more excited as he went on. I envied his enthusiasm, and it must have shown on my face because James asked, “Amelia, are you okay?”

“What? Yeah. I’m… well, I _will_ be fine,” I said. I looked down at the story again, frowning.

“You will be,” James said confidently. “I’m sure of it. The grand mystery of the Hallows!”

“Yeah,” I said bitterly, “And why my mum abandoned me to chase a fairytale.” My thoughts spiraled to the darker depths of my mind as James watched me, uncertain of what to do. Then, my stomach rumbled.

“C’mon,” James said as he lifted his bag onto his shoulder. “I can tell you’re hungry. Let’s stop for tonight and get something from the kitchens before curfew.”

I gathered my things and joined his stride. “Before curfew? This is new.”

James chuckled. “I can’t be an outlaw _all_ of the time.”

* * *

“I can’t tell you how good it feels to have a bath,” sighs Hannah Longbottom contently as she emerges from the bathroom in her and Neville’s flat above the Leaky Cauldron. Her hair is in an elegant knot, and she’s wearing flowing blue dress robes. “Honestly, the small things in life are taken for granted.”

“Are they really?” I muse as I bounce baby Frankie, her four-month-old son. I have just given him a bottle and am getting him ready for sleep.

“Yes. And I truly enjoyed the glass of oak matured mead. Thank you, honey,” Hannah says as she places a kiss onto Neville’s forehead. He smiles up at her from the sofa.

“Anything for you, dear,” he beams.

Frankie coos in what seems like agreement before belching. We laugh as I wipe away some of his spit up from his chin. I’m here tonight as a babysitter, though Neville and Hannah haven’t left yet. Part of it is to get me out of the house (at Aunt Susan’s insistence) and the other part is to allow Neville and Hannah a peaceful evening out by giving me baby duty.

“He’s gotten so big,” I say as he looks up at me and grabs my hair.

“And he’s growing,” Neville agrees as he picks up a copy of _The Evening Prophet_. “Blimey, they’re really starting to mess things up again.” He frowns.

Hannah cranes her neck, glancing down at the article from behind him. “So much for a restful evening,” she says darkly, “if you read that.”

“I have to. Minerva wants to have a meeting tomorrow to talk about how to handle the updates in the attacks with the students,” Neville responds.

“Oh, yeah, you mean the one at _The Quibbler_ and that village?” I ask as rock Frankie.

Neville looks knowingly over a me. “Yes, those ones. Susan and Michael that you were questioned about them.”

A blush works its way up my cheeks as Neville stands and walks over to me, handing me the newspaper. “Amelia, Hannah and I know that you had nothing to do with these attacks. Just know that you can tell us anything, just like you can tell Susan and Michael,” he says gently. I avoid his gaze, cursing Aunt Susan for pressuring him to say something like this to me. I just know that she’s done it.

“I know, Neville. Thank you,” I say, more out of courtesy than anything else.

“We best be off,” Hannah says as she comes over to kiss Frankie goodnight. “Good-bye Frankie. Mum and Dad will be back soon.”

Frankie looks up at her, sucking his fist. Neville kisses his son, too.

“Goodnight, Frank,” he says. “Amelia, please help yourself to anything in the kitchen when he finally falls asleep.”

“Will do. Have fun you two!” I say as the happy couple leaves on their date.

After they’ve gone, I read the article in The Evening Prophet. Not much has changed since the article this morning.

> _ONE NIGHT, TWO ATTACKS: NEOWALDS ARE AT IT AGAIN_
> 
> _Some witches and wizards enjoy turning to the pages of_ The Quibbler _for an independent news source, but will they be able to get this month’s edition? Last night, the headquarters of the beloved wizarding magazine was ransacked and burned, leaving very little left behind. Witness and editor-in-chief, Luna Scamander, says, “I was able to get myself out of the building before it collapsed. I saw the wizards in their green robes, attacking the building.”_
> 
> _When asked about the future of_ The Quibbler _, Mrs. Scamander says, “While the building for_ The Quibbler _has been destroyed, the spirit has been left undamaged. The true headquarters for the magazine lies in the hearts and minds of its readers. As long as you have them, you have_ The Quibbler _.”_
> 
> The Quibbler _, in addition to being an independent news source, reports the speculations of the movements of the wizards in green robes, the NeoWalds. Was this a chance attack? The second one suggests otherwise._
> 
> _A small Muggle village in Kent was attacked the same night. No one was killed, but a statue, in memorial for World War II (what Muggles call the war from 1939-1945), was destroyed. The Ministry today has taken steps to modify the memories of the Muggle witnesses and to lend support to a community who lost their prized memorial. The statue in question represented the end of the War, but Ministry officials can only suspect that the NeoWalds wanted to destroy it as it was connected to the downfall of Dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald, who was defeated by esteemed Hogwarts Headmaster, the late Albus Dumbledore._
> 
> _Where will the NeoWalds strike next? Will there be any casualties? More to follow as further information makes itself available. The Auror Office will be available for comment tomorrow morning._

So there it is. The NeoWalds. The NeoGrindelwalds. Still causing destruction. Still thriving. I continue to wonder if my mother was present at one of the attacks.

It was only a matter of time before there would be the next one.

Frankie sirs in my arms but has fallen asleep. Carefully, I carry him into his crib, wrapping him in a soft blanket. I stare down at him for a few moments, relishing in his sereness. He would wake up tomorrow and have no idea about what is happening outside of his home.

“Sweet dreams,” I whisper before returning to the living room. I cast The Evening Prophet to the side and pick up one of Neville’s many books on Herbology.

I wonder what’s going to happen next, what Harry is doing with the Stone, what James is doing while, I presume, in captivity, who even sent me the Stone.

Well, Harry has it now. What could the sender want me to do next? Surely not go after the other Hallows. But maybe they want me to, maybe they want me to do the dirty work for them. But Harry made me promise otherwise.

Of course I could promise Harry that I wouldn’t go looking for the other Hallows. I already know where they are.


	9. Duelling Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Now, let’s see what you got.”

“Ow!”

“Sorry! So sorry!” James said as his hand brushed up my face and finally grasped my hat. He yanked it off my head.

“Bloody hell, James!” I said, wiping away tears. “You poked me right in the eye!”

“How was I supposed to know that was your eye?” he exclaimed as he sat down next to me. “I couldn’t see your face with that hat on!” He examined the pointy witch’s hat. “I can’t believe you got one of these.”

I tugged it out of his hands and put the hat back on my hand. When I could no longer see my nose, I knew that my head was invisible. “I thought this would lighten the mood,” I said.

“Oh, it certainly does,” James agreed, smiling. “You know, I could’ve gotten you one of those for free, since they are at my uncles's shop…”

I rolled my eyes, but then I remembered that he couldn’t see my face. “I’ll get over it,” I teased. I closed the book I had been reading and was getting the next pile ready.

“Why are you reading about duelling techniques?” James asked, picking up my recently discarded book.

Thankful that I was hearing the Invisible Hat from Weasley Wizard Wheezes, I blushed. “We’re working on nonverbal duelling in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Hopkins is giving us a practical next week, and I’m rather rubbish at duelling normally, so I’d thought I read about some strategies before practicing…”

“I remember doing that from last year!” James said enthusiastically. “It was one of my favorite topics! In my year, Hopkins and Ritter are joining together to do a theme on Conjuring and duelling. We start next week and it should take us to final exams. Maybe we can practice together sometime.”

“Oh?” I faced him, though my head was still invisible. James looked slightly uncomfortable, and he stared at what he thought were my eyes but was actually my nose.

“Well, my mates and I know each other’s rhythms when we practice on each other,” he said quickly. “It would be nice to have someone new.”

“I won’t be much of a challenge,” I told him. “But okay.” There was a slightly awkward pause. “Well, let’s get to it now, shall we? I’ve been thinking--”

“Okay, stop,” James said, closing his eyes. “I can’t take it anymore. _Please_ take off that hat. It’s too weird trying to have a conversation with you when I can’t see your face.”

“Muggles do it all the time,” I said as I took off the hat. “On those hand things, mopile phones.”

James nodded. “But it’s a bit different when you’re sitting next to someone without a head.” He took the hat again and examined it. “There, I can see you. Loads better now.”

“I do have a rather dazzling face, don’t I?” I contemplated, smirking at him. James gave a small chuckle as he shifted awkwardly in his chair. I changed the subject. “Okay, tonight I thought we could go over some plans of how to find out more about these Deathly Hallows. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I think the answer might be within my past.”

“Really? How so?” James wondered. I wasn’t sure if his curiosity stemmed from his being glad about the changed subject or because he was genuinely confused.

“When my mum left me at Aunt Susan’s a while after my seventh birthday…” I trailed off, trying to find the right words. My hands urged to find the golden chain still around my neck. “Well, it wasn’t supposed to be permanent. I was supposed to stay there for only a little while--my Aunt Susan explained this to me when I tearfully asked her why my mum wasn’t coming back…”

James laid his hand on my upper arm. “Oh, Amelia, I’m so sorry. I… I don’t know what else to say…”  
  
“Thank you, James,” I said thickly. I turned more towards him and lowered my voice to continue. “I knew my mum wasn’t taking me away again when my aunt and uncle brought me to a Muggle school one day. I was seven at the time, and I had never been to school before.”

“Never been to--?”

“Yeah. I was homeschooled my whole life by then. When I asked my mum why I couldn’t go to school like all the other kids living on our street, she talked about how I had to wait to be old enough to go to the right school for me.”

“What school was that? Hogwarts?” James asked.

“That’s the thing. I wasn’t supposed to come here,” I told him. “I was supposed to go to Durmstrang.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Really? What changed?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m guessing something happened that made my mom leave me at my Aunt Susan’s… then, after my eleventh birthday, I got my Hogwarts letter, and my aunt and uncle enrolled me. I’ve always wondered why my mum left me with them, and I think I know now: the Hallows--or whatever ideology they bring.”

James ran a hand through his messy hair. “Blimey,” he breathed. “D’you reckon she’s been out there looking for the Hallows?”

“I dunno,” I said. “But this brings me to where we can maybe start.” I brought out two thick tomes. “We can start looking for clues at the schools: Hogwarts and Durmstrang. I was supposed to go to Durmstrang, but I ended up here, and yet, my mum still saw fit to bring me into this secret. Maybe there will be something at these schools that will point us to the Hallows.”

“Okay. That’s a fair place to start. But do we have to read those books?”

I rolled my eyes. “We’ll use the books. Skim through them for anything promising. Here.” I handed him the copy of _Hogwarts, A History_. “You can take Hogwarts. I’ll take Durmstrang.”

James groaned. “The last time I opened a copy of this book was when my Aunt Hermione gave this to me for my eleventh birthday.”

“How thoughtful,” I smiled.

“Yeah, it was, since it was supposed to get me even more excited to go here, but it did the opposite, really.”  
  
“How come?”

“I fell asleep before it was time for birthday cake,” he said seriously.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” I warned him.

“No promises.”

“If you fall asleep while reading the book, I’ll make sure you’ll wake up to an altered physical appearance.”

James laughed. “Well, then, I better make sure I stay awake… What book are you reading about Durmstrang, then?”

I held up _Durmstrang: Europe’s Best Kept Secret?_ for him to see.

“It looks like a page turner,” James said sarcastically, grinning. He checked his watch. “Well, I can only stay for another half hour. I have Quidditch practice soon.”

“Okay. Let’s get started, shall we?”

A little while later, James sighed. “Amelia, I don’t know how I’m going to get through practice now. I’m so tired!”

“Did you find anything?” I asked, looking up from my book.

“Not really. I started with the bit my aunt added, about the Battle of Hogwarts. Couldn't find much, though I _did_ read about the duel between my dad and Voldemort…”

“Any mention of the Elder Wand or any of the other Hallows?”

“No,” James signed. “But maybe they will crop up in Hogwarts’ earlier history…” He yawned. “I gotta go now. I’ll read more tomorrow, yeah?”

He stood up, and I joined him. “James, you don’t have to continue with this if you don’t want to,” I said hastily. “I know it’s boring, and we probably won’t find anything--”

“It’s okay, Amelia. Really,” he said as he crammed _Hogwarts, A History_ into his bag. When I raised my eyebrows at his action, he retorted, “I left my copy at home, okay? I needed the extra space in my trunk for my Quidditch gear.”

I gave a small laugh. “Of course you did. Well, I suppose I’ll see you later.” I sat back down, turning back to the table of contents in my book on Durmstrang. So, far, I hadn’t found anything in the origins of the school.

“Can you meet next Monday? Same time?”

“Sure,” I said. “Same place?”

“Actually,” James began. I looked up at him as he rocked on the balls of his feet. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his recently vacated chair. “If you don’t mind meeting in the abandoned classroom on the third floor corridor, we could practice duelling, too.”

“Oh.” Heat rose in my cheeks. I had temporarily forgotten about his earlier offer, and I hadn’t known it was serious. “Okay, that works.”

“Brilliant. See you then!” James said hurriedly as he dashed off to Quidditch practice. **  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

“How does it feel?”

I slowly take off my cardigan and turn my back to Victoria.

“Well, the bandage is off,” she says as she leans closer to my shoulders. “And the skin around it has healed nicely.”

“I’m still a little tender, though,” I tell her. “Who knew how much mobility rests in your neck and shoulders?”

Victoria laughs. “I could’ve told you that. The tattoo suits you.”

I put my cardigan back on as I turn towards her again. We are in a small cafe, not too far from St. Mungo’s, where Victoria is undergoing her first year of Healer training. The following weekend since Harry Potter’s visit, Victoria and I had a girls’ night out, and I convinced myself to get a tattoo of an ancient Druid rune. The Muggle tattoo artist insisted that it was for “grace”, but the Rune actually means “life.”

“I’m glad that you’ve cast your doubts to the side,” I joke as a stir in some milk into my coffee.

Victoria crosses her legs and plays with the end of her side plait. Her icy blue eyes and dark hair are striking compared to her porcelain skin. When she was little, she had ringlets, and the dresses her parents put her in made her look like a china doll. She showed me pictures when we were still at Hogwarts.

Victoria is the one who has the grace and the beauty, and I am so proud of what she is doing.

“What are you thinking about?” she wonders, eyeing me suspiciously.

I shrug. “Oh, memories. Just think how far you’ve come since first year.”

She rolls her eyes as she sips her cappuccino. “I still have a long way to go before I’m a healer. We’ve just finished Muggle first aid. Next we’re getting into magical plants to make the basic remedies.”

“See? You used to be so squeamish at the sight of blood. Now you’re going to bandage everyone up.”

“Yeah, well… I didn’t know I had a calling for it until… well, you know.” She bites the bottom of her lip, unsure if she has alluded to something that she shouldn’t have. I try to suppress the memories of my father’s funeral.

Slowly, I nod. “Yeah...”

“And,” she continues, hoping to steer the conversation away from a bad place, “I had you to drag me through all of those tedious assignments at Hogwarts. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you nagging me to finish my homework!”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out something out. Like maybe date someone ahead in the program.” Victoria chokes on her drink. My eyes widen. “No way! Who?”

She grabs a napkin, wiping her chin and coughing. “He’s a third year in the program. Gaius Finnigan.” A grin spreads across her whole face.

“Looks like he’s keeping you happy,” I tease, and she giggles.

“He’s been great! He told me to avoid drinking from the flask they pass around at the orientation party. It’s rumored to be fermented dragon’s piss. I didn’t drink from the flask, but everyone else did. I was the only one who didn’t throw up that night.”

“Now that’s true love!” I grin as a take another sip of my coffee. Victoria gushes. We fall into a comfortable silence, lost in our own thoughts. I am so incredibly happy for her, though the comparison of how shoddy my life is threatens to taint it. _Stop being ridiculous. Victoria deserves it so much._

I look around the cafe, at the smiling groups enjoying the food and the coffee. I wonder what it’s like to be them, Muggles who are blissfully unaware of magic and its many complications. The window to the cafe shows a bustling street with shiny automobiles from the fresh autumn rain. Pedestrians hurry by, trying to get to their destinations before the next downpour. Then, I see someone staring at me.

It’s for only a moment. I blink, and he’s gone. I jump from my chair and run through a group of middle-aged women on their way inside. Victoria calls after me in shock.

Outside, goose bumps explode on my arms and legs without my jacket, but I don’t care. I look up and down the street. I think I see a patch of hair I recognize from across the street. I quickly run towards it, trying to keep my eye on it.

A car horn blares. “Oi! Get outta the street, you idiot!” howlers a Muggle driver.

Heart racing, I jump back onto the pavement as the car drives away. I look back across the street. He’s gone, nowhere to be seen.

Numbly, I turn back into the cafe, where Victoria is paying the bill with her Muggle money.

“What the bloody hell?” she exclaims as she throws my jacket at me. “What caused you to run out of here like that?”

I don’t answer her until we’re out on the street, surrounded by people. “I thought I saw someone,” I said slowly, avoiding eye contact.

“Who?”

I stop, putting my hands into my pockets. Her blue eyes pierce fiercely up at me, demanding an answer.

“Cassius Vaisey.” **  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

As I ran in a panic up the halls, I tried to shake off my dream. I had fallen asleep in my common room, studying for the Herbology O.W.L. exam. My nightmare consisted of me crawling through the woods. I had wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t support my weight, and I kept stumbling. It was dark, and my hands brushed over everything as I tried to escape…

Rounding the final corner, I blew out a gust of air, centering myself on the present moment. I was almost there.

“So sorry I’m late!” I panted. James was lying across two desks, playing with a Golden Snitch. He looked up, eyebrows raised.

“No worries,” he said. “I wasn’t waiting for long. Cleared a space for us to practice.” He gestured to the open space between us. He got a better look at me. “Are you okay, Amelia?”

Looking down, I noticed my overall disheveled appearance. I set my bag and tied my hair back into a messy bun. “Er, well I fell asleep in the common room. That’s why I’m late,” I told him as I tried to fix my tie, but it was too much effort so I discarded it on top of my school bag. “How are you?”

“Slightly more energetic than yourself,” he replied with a small smile. “Ready to duel?”

My stomach dropped. “Not really,” I confessed.

“I admire your honesty, but that’s not going to help you win. Where’s your wand? You’re already behind.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I could tell that James was earnestly trying to help me. My nightmare still held me in its claws. “I’m getting it, hold on.”

“Okay. Let’s start with the basics. Show me your ready stance,” James instructed me. He filled in the distance between us for this part.

I mimicked the stance that Professor Hopkins had us do in our third year. James studied my posture.

“Hmm… Try spreading your feet hip-width apart. Bend your knees a little less. Wand arm down--too low! Here.” James stepped behind me and guided my arm to the right height. His musky, cinnamon scent filled my nostrils. “That’s better,” he murmured in my ear.

“Yeah,” I agreed, though I wasn’t talking only about my fighting stance.

“Good! Now, let’s see what you got,” he said excitedly as he jogged across the room from me. He turned, and in a flourish, he was at the ready.

I gulped. “I don’t have much,” I said shakily.

“Ready in three, two, one!” James called out, ignoring me. He sent a nonverbal hex my way.

“Protego!” I said just in time. I took a step back, surprised.

“C’mon, Amelia! You wanted to work on your nonverbal!” James said as he sent another jinx my way.

I tried casting another Shield Charm, nonverbally this time. A weak shield appeared, and I had to dodge out of the way to avoid the impaired spell.

“Better!” James encouraged. “But only casting Shield Charms won’t help you for long. Throw one at me!”

He shifted his weight in several rapid movements. His brown eyes peered through his glasses, glinting at the excitement of the challenge. I sent a nonverbal Stunning spell at him. He blocked it with a wave of his wand. James moved so naturally and with such fluidity that I wanted to stand by and watch him.

With a quick jab of his wand, my wand flew out of my hand.

“Hey, you didn’t even try!” James huffed as he handed me my wand back.

“Sorry.” I shook my head. “You just made it look so easy.”

James studied me for a moment. “Fair point.” He winked at me. “I am pretty good at duelling. But now that we both know that, let’s see what you got. This time, I want you to try to disarm me. I’ll only use Shield Charms, so you won’t have to worry about defending yourself.”

I nodded. “Okay. And do I have to do nonverbal?”  
  
James grinned. “Of course! In fact--” His eyes gleamed. “--if you say any spell aloud, I’ll send a jinx your way!”

Frustrating, but effective. I nodded my consent and we continued to practice. Eventually, I was able to Disarm him in a couple moves.

“Excellent!” James panted. He took a swig of water from his bottle. “You’re really getting the hang of it! Now, let’s make it a little more challenging.”

“Oh boy,” I groaned, wiping a thin layer of sweat from my forehead. I got into a fighting stance.

“Good position!” James cheered before sending a Stinging hex my way. I blocked it and send a Disarming one, which he, once again, easily blocked.

We went back and forth for a few minutes, sending hexes and jinxes at each other. A couple times, I almost tripped over myself, but I was able to catch myself just in time. James began Conjuring things my way, like water pellets and small rocks. With a wave of my wand, I sent some wooden chairs flying towards him.

James raised his eyebrows in surprise before guiding the chairs around him and transfiguring them into a stream of sand, which he blasted towards me. His movement was so graceful and quick, that I was soon coughing up sand.

“Sorry!” James said as he jogged up to me.

I rubbed the sand away from my eyes. “S’all right,” I coughed, brushing sand off of my face. James helped me by getting my shoulders.

“That was pretty impressive with the chairs. It means that your awareness has extended beyond you and me,” he told me, smiling.

“Yeah,” I wheezed, undoing my bun and shaking the sand out of my hair. “At least there’s that! Good transfiguration, even though I’ll be finding sand in the crooks of my body for the next couple days.” I faced him, suddenly realizing how close we were standing.

James laughed. “Thanks.” A moment of silence, and his smile turned into a look of nervous tension. “You still got some… here.” He tenderly brushed some sand from my cheek, which tingled uncontrollably from his touch. He tilted his face to the side; his eyes searched mine as his hand lingered...

As I felt the pressure of his touch lessen, I quickly placed my hand over his to keep it on my face. My pulse echoed in my ears, and I was certain that he could hear it, or at least feel it. Slowly, as if suspected through syrup and I dared not move any faster, I started to lean in…

BANG!

James and I jumped apart. The room was spinning. “PEEVES!” roared our ancient caretaker, Mr. Filch, from somewhere nearby. There was more loud banging and some voices.

“What the hell?” muttered James as he went over to the door and opened it. “The shields and armor are scattered all down the corridor!” He looked back at me. “What a mess! We better leave sooner rather than later.”

“Agreed.”

We hastily put back the classroom to its original state. “Oh James,” I said. I think my tone was a little too loud to be considered normal, but I felt like I was walking on eggshells after what transpired--or what didn’t transpire--between us. “We didn’t get to the Hallows.”

“Oh, right,” James awkwardly paused by the door. “Perhaps another time then?”

“Yeah. Wednesday after dinner?” I suggested.

“Can’t. Quidditch. Thursday evening?”

“Prefect duty,” I said unenthusiastically.

We could hear Mr. Flich swearing in the distance. “Another time then,” James said, avoiding my gaze. He opened the door. “See you around, Amelia.”

“Bye,” I said weakly, though I wasn’t sure he even heard me, since he left so quickly.


	10. The Heir of Ignotus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t want to apologize, for I wasn’t sorry.

Over the next couple of weeks, I comb over the newspapers for any mention of Cassius Vaisey. The only things that comes close are mentions of the NeoGrindelwalds and how the wizarding community should protect themselves for fear of attack. Vaisey’s name isn’t even mentioned, which means that he’s still out there, lurking, unnoticed…

I wave goodbye to Hannah, who has just given me a cup of coffee before my shift at Ollivander’s, where I have been working part-time since my short-lived career at the Ministry.

It’s still rather early for Diagon Alley, and the cobblestoned street is scarcely populated by witches, wizards, and even a few goblins. The autumn chill is finally lingering past sunrise, and I watch my frozen breath dissolve in front of me as I tread past the opening shops.

When I enter Ollivander’s shop, the old wizard isn’t at the counter like he normally is.

“Good morning, Mr. Ollivander!” I call, closing the door behind me. Silence greets me. “Mr. Ollivander?”

A muffled noise comes from the back workroom. I throw my scarf and traveling cloak onto the floor and rush inside.

“Mr. Olliva--? Oh my God.” I rush over to a crumpled heap in the corner.

Mr. Ollivander lies at an awkward angle on the floor. He cranes his head slightly to look tearfully up at me. His lips form words, but it takes him a moment to make sound.

“W-water.” His voice cracks. He raises a trembling hand points to a pitcher on the counter.

I dash over, looking for a cup. I finally find a dusty goblet and wipe it clean before filling it.

“Drink only a little bit at a time,” I say tenderly, as I lift his head gently towards the rim. A rancid smell fills my nostrils. He has soiled himself. “How long have you been here?”

He coughs before answering weakly, “Since an hour after you left yesterday… Cut my hand making a new wand… went over here to get some bandages… fell… ”

I examine his injured hand. The cut doesn’t look too deep, but it hasn’t been properly cleaned. A piece of his shirt has been ripped off as a makeshift bandage. Dried blood is splattered across his body. “We need to get you off the floor. Can you move?”

He shook his head, wincing in pain. “I think I… broke my hip.”

“Right,” I breathe. “Let me get some help--”

“No!” he croaks as tears stain his cheeks. “They’ll take me away… take me away from my shop…”

“But I can’t move you by myself… and I’m not using magic, not with a broken hip,” I tell him sternly. “I have a friend who’s learning to be a healer. Let me get her. She might be able to come without drawing the notice of official healers.”

He stares at me for a moment, breathing shallowly. “Not like I have much of a choice,” he moans, closing his eyes as more tears come. At a loss of what to say, I squeeze his hand to show my support.

“Thanks for getting us,” Victoria says a little while later as she emerges to the front of the shop. She rests her medical kit on the counter.

“How’s he doing?” I ask, looking up from the accounting books. Not much needs to be done here, especially since the summer rush is over, but I need to keep myself busy.

“Gaius is feeding Mr. Ollivander some broth. We’ve cleaned him up nicely, he’s taken some Skelegrow, and he’s resting in the bed we brought downstairs from the apartment.” Victoria hesitates, biting her lip. “Amelia… it’s a good thing you came in when you did. I don’t know what would have happened if you didn’t.”

A chill runs down my spine. “What’s going to happen to him?” I wonder, though I dread the answer.

Victoria sighs, running a hand through her raven hair. “Not sure. We need to contact his next of kin. He’s too fragile to be living by himself for much longer.”

“I don’t know how well that’s going to work. I get the impression that he’s a little estranged from his family,” I tell her glumly. My fingers rap gently on the counter as I try to recall family members of the old wandmaker. “But I think he has a grandson who wouldn’t mind helping.”

Gaius joins us. “He’s asleep. He should be feeling better in the morning,” he says in a thick Irish accent. His friendly eyes look sorrowful, but they warm considerably upon seeing my friend. I can understand why Victoria is so enamoured with him.

Before anyone can say anything, the ground vibrates, and we hear a loud explosion.

“What the--?” Gaius exclaims. People on the street begin shouting and running in different directions. The three of us rush outside to see what the commotion is.

A pillar of smoke rises above Diagon Alley. It’s coming from the Muggle side. Some witches and wizards are making their way towards the smoke, but most are fleeing. Another, smaller explosion sounds, and people’s screams from the Muggle side reach our ears.

I grasp onto my wand before sprinting towards the chaos. I hear Victoria call me from the entrance to Ollivander’s shop.

“Stay with Ollivander. I’m going after her!” I hear her shout to Gaius. I pick up my pace, determined not to have my best friend stop me.

I push past people as I emerge into the Muggle world. A nearby Muggle transportation underground station is in flames, and there are wizards in dark green robes firing spells at wizards and Muggles alike. The NeoWalds are here.

**  
  
**

* * *

One good thing about prefect’s duty was that it meant that my Thursday was nearly over, which meant that I wouldn’t have Ancient Runes until next week, which meant that I could hide from James Potter until then. Earlier that day, I had Ancient Runes, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Thoughts of what had happened during our duelling practice flared throughout my body, causing nervous beads of sweat to form at my brow.

Victoria had nearly pushed me inside the classroom, too. “It’s your favorite class!” she had insisted as she watched my pace outside the door. “You never want to miss it.”

“I know,” I had groaned, but the thought of facing James was too unbearable.

“Oh stop being such a ninny,” Victoria had said before she steered me to the door and opened it for me. Needless to say, I beelined towards my usual spot and got out my things without talking to anyone for the entire lesson.

And now, that class was over, and I didn’t have it again until Monday. Hopefully by then I would have recovered.

It was a quiet night at Hogwarts. I parted ways with my rounds partner, who was on her way to the Ravenclaw tower, before heading towards the dungeons. The comfort of my bed was an inviting thought after such a stressful day.

The portraits hung quietly on the walls. In the dim candle light, many of the paintings were already asleep. Others watched rather disinterestedly as I passed them. No ghosts were around, and I hadn’t even seen Peeves all night, so hopefully he was in a different part of the castle, so I wouldn’t have to bother with him.

I hopped over a trick step when I heard my name being whispered.

“Psst! Amelia!”

Pausing on the stairway, I glanced to my right, where the voice was coming from. From the shadows, James emerged.

“Oh! Hello!” I whispered back, clutching onto the railway for support. I took several deep breaths to steady my heart rate. “You startled me.”

“Sorry,” James said. “Come down here. There’s something I’d like to tell you.”

I skipped down the stairs and joined him by in the alcove. No one could see us unless they really looked. James really knew some good hiding spots around the castle. He stood in front of me and smiled shyly down at me.

“As a prefect, I must inform you that you are officially out of your dormitory after hours,” I said dutifully.

“Are you going to report me?”

I hesitated. “No,” I said finally. “Not this time.”

“Last time you said that you would take away House points if you caught me,” he teased.

“I can change my mind,” I retorted, crossing my arms. “Now, furthermore as a prefect, I highly suggest getting back to your dorm before someone who _does_ mind that you’re out after hours catches you.”

“And what about as a fellow researcher, on the case to solve the mystery of the Hallows?” James asked as a confident glint appeared in his dark eyes.

“Well, then I would wonder what this meeting at this late hour is all about.”

There was a pause. James put his hands in his pockets. “Listen, first I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier this week. I shouldn’t have left in such a hurry.”

I waved away his apology. “Don’t worry about it. We had an intense practice session, and then we didn’t want to get caught in the crossfires between Peeves and Mr. Filch.”

Silence fell between us again as we both looked away from each other, unsure of what to say. We were sweeping what happened _between_ our practice and Peeves’ prank under the rug, though I could tell it was still lingering between us. I didn’t want to apologize, for I wasn’t sorry. But I also didn’t want to lose the rapport that we had…

“Are you ready to find out more about the Hallows?” James asked after a few moments.

I stared sharply at him. “What? Now? What have you found out?”

James signaled to lower my voice and smiled sheepishly. “I’m ready to show you something… but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

Confused, I said, “Okay. I promise. What did you find?”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” James began slowly.

“That almost always means that I will,” I told him. My heart raced, and my palms became clammy. What was he wanting to show me? And why would I take it the wrong way?

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” James sighed. He beckoned me further underneath the staircase, to where I saw his bag lying in the darkness. “Listen, I didn’t want to tell you about this straight away, because I wasn’t sure how you’d take it, but I think you need this.”

“What?” In my mind, I thought out many possibilities about what he could mean. Did he have information that I didn’t have? Did he have a reason to quit this research? Or to alter it?

“Do you still think the Hallows don’t exist?” he asked.

I shook my head. “James, I’m having a really hard time following…”

“Just answer my question.”

I thought for a moment. “I think there’s a probability that they do exist, or at least, some more than others, like the wand.”

James nodded and picked up his bag. “I think,” he said matter-of-factly, “that you need a little more faith in them. And I trust that you won’t betray my confidence.”

His words, while straightforward and light, had a whole other context. It wasn’t a threat, necessarily, but a statement to take caution about how I would use whatever he was about to tell me. It was a leap of trust on his part, and he was asking me to respect that. This discretion, I believed, was something that I was willing to do.

“Okay,” I told him, reaching out and touching his upper arm. My eyes searched his. “You can show me.”

He opened his bag and produced a long piece of silvery cloth. “Here, take this.”

I received the cloth, which felt like liquid in my hands. “Is this--?” I held up the cloth until it revealed the shape of a cloak. James was staring at me expectantly. “No way. An invisibility cloak?”

He nodded.

“Prove it,” I said, throwing the cloak at him. It would be much more effective if I could see him--or not see him--wear it. James caught it and grinned.

“Have it your way.” He threw the cloak on and disappeared.

“James!” I gasped, reaching out to where he had been standing. I felt something solid, and I realized that it was his hand.

“Hi there,” he said. I grasped what felt like liquidy cloth, though I could only see myself groping the air, and pulled gently to reveal his arm. He gave me a thumbs up, which looked quite ridiculous to see a floating arm do that without a body. I continued to pull until the cloak fell off him, until it reappeared as the silvery cloth in my hand again.

“Where did you get this?” I breathed as I caught its glitter in the candlelight.

“My dad gave it to me,” James explained, “at the beginning of this school year.”

“Wow. What a generous gift,” I said, handing it back to him.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t really a gift,” James said. “It belonged to his father, who got it from his father, who got it from his father… and so on.”

“A family heirloom?”

“Much like your pendant.”

I looked up at him, mind whirling. “But… but they fade with time… unless…” James’ grin widened. I took a step back in amazement. “Is it really the Cloak of Invisibility from…?”

My hand extended to reach for the Cloak, which James gave me while chuckling softly. “Yes,” he confirmed. “It is.”

“Oh, James… this is… _extraordinary_ ,” I said breathlessly. Then, it registered why he didn’t want me to take it the wrong way: since he had given me _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , James knew about the Cloak, and it was only now that he was sharing this with me. James read my face and bit his lip.

“Sorry I didn’t show it to you earlier,” he said, looking down at his feet. “I… I wasn’t sure if I could…”

“Trust me?” I suggested.

Hesitantly, James nodded, glancing up at me. “Yeah. Especially since the Hallows are linked to Voldemort and the Death Eaters and your family… Amelia, why are you smiling? I thought you’d be pissed.”

Before I could answer, there were footsteps above us. James tugged me to him and threw the Cloak around us. Startled at the quick succession of events, I involuntarily let out a loud gasp.

“Who’s there?” sneered Mr. Filch as he paused on the staircase above us. There was a meow, which meant that Mrs. Griggs, his cat, was nearby.

James breathed almost inaudibly in my ear, “Follow my lead.” The hairs of my neck stood on end as I nodded. James stepped around me, careful to stay under the Cloak. He winked before facing away from me, and quickly, carefully, he led us from underneath the staircase.

Mr. Filch was at the foot of the stairs. My instincts told me to stop emerging from the shadows and crawl back there to hide. Surely, he could see us! But the Cloak provided us with protection as James stealthily led us down another corridor as Mr. Filch made his way to where we had been standing moments ago. Mrs. Griggs’ eyes reflected towards where we were retreating.

I followed James in silence as he lead us on a winding path throughout the corridors. I didn’t know where he was leading us or if he even had a clue himself. Finally, we came to an alcove behind some knight in armor and we slipped inside.

“That’s better,” James sighed. “That was close.” He took off the Cloak.

“Very close,” I agreed, feeling the silvery fabric slip in and out of my fingers. “That was amazing…”

James laughed softly. “You get used to it, but it’s always a rush when you’re sneaking away from people in the dead of night.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I take it that you’re a veteran in using the Cloak for rule breaking.”

He shrugged and said mischievously, “All in the call of duty…”

I knew that it was my turn to bring up what we were talking about before Mr. Filch interrupted us. I let go of the Cloak and crossed my arms.

“I’m not angry with you, James,” I told him earnestly. I fingered the chain around my neck. “If _I_ thought _you_ were possibly linked to Death Eaters, I wouldn’t want to tell you about the Cloak, either. And besides…”

“Besides what?”

“I… I haven’t told you everything, either,” I confessed as my heart rate throbbed loudly in my ears. And I began telling him the very limited information I had withheld about my mother’s visit back in November.

“The Cause?” James murmured, leaning against the wall. “But what does that mean? Is it related to Death Eaters?”

I sighed, joining him on the wall. “I don’t know. I don’t think so… I think it might be something else… and I’m not sure if it’s very legal…”

“Oh, Amelia, I’m so sorry,” James said, facing me. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I didn’t want to see if they were full of pity, or worse, disgust.

“Thanks,” I said thickly, blinking back some threatening tears.

“Do you… do you want to go to the kitchens to get something to eat or a cup of tea?” James asked tentatively, taking a step closer to me.

I shook my head. “No… I think I’m ready for bed.”

“Right,” James nodded, hunching his shoulders. Was he disappointed? He lifted the Cloak. “But I insist on accompanying you back to your common room, so you won’t be at the mercy of Filch if he catches you.”

I gave a small smile. “Thanks, I’d like that.”

He threw the Cloak over us and let me lead us down to the dungeons. The corridors were eerily quiet and the shadows moved as the torches began to go out, but James’ warmth radiating behind me melted away my apprehension.

When we were around the corner from the common room, I stopped and faced James. “Thank you, James, for everything,” I told him earnestly. “I’ve learned so much in the span of one evening…”

James smiled smugly. “So does this mean that you believe in the Hallows?”

“Seeing is believing,” I murmured, returning his smile.

“Or _not_ seeing, on account that we’re invisible.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Not funny, James…”

“And yet you laughed…”

After a moment of uncertain silence, I said, “Well, um, my common room’s just around the corner. I better go…”

James stepped closer to me, and I couldn’t hold his piercing gaze. Instead, I looked at my hand as I rested it on his shoulder. “Thanks for showing me the Cloak…” I swallowed. “Goodnight, James.”

He slowly reached his hand up towards my face, brushing a dark strand of hair behind my ear. Stomach lurching my breathing quickened, and I could feel my heart racing in my hand, which seemed to be frozen on James’ shoulder, though the pulse might not have been mine but his… I couldn’t tell. I felt like I could focus on everything and nothing at once. James’ hand lingered behind my ear.

I could barely register the feeling of my feet leaning onto my toes as I gravitated closer to him. He was leaning towards me, too, brown eyes shining from behind his glasses. “Goodnight, Amelia,” James whispered, sending warm air into my parted lips.

My next breath tasted of him as we kissed. A newfound awareness pulsated through my body, spewing bursts of energy to where I could feel James. His lips on my mouth, his hands on my face, his hair beneath my fingers…

We stayed rooted underneath the Invisibility Cloak, for how long I wasn’t certain, our kisses hidden from the world.

**  
  
**

* * *

****  
  


A spell barely misses me as it hits the storefront, sending glass everyone. The Muggles around me scream and start to flee again. I try to locate the NeoWald witch or wizard who shot the curse, but I have a difficult time seeing and breathing through the smoke. My sinuses flare from inhaling the haze.

“There you are!” gasps Victoria as she embraces me. Her eyes are wild with fear. “We gotta get out of here.”

“We have to try to stop this--”

“No,” she says sternly. “This is dangerous. I don’t want you to get into trouble again--”

“I don’t care about that,” I yell as we dodge another spell. We take cover behind a parked automobile. I finally see a figure in the smoke, and I send a Stunning spell his way. The wizard blocks it easily.

Victoria digs her nails into my arm. “Amelia, we have to leave,” she pleads. “I don’t want us to get hurt. The Aurors are here already, probably.”

The same figure in the distance casts a Stinging hex towards us. I pull Victoria out of the way. “You can leave if you want.” I cast the Disarming spell, but once again the wizard blocks it. The smoke is still too thick to get a proper look at our opponent. “Look out!” Once more, I pull Victoria to the pavement as another wizard sends a curse our way.

“Amelia,” cries Victoria, trembling. “Please…”

“Get yourself to safety. I’m staying,” I tell her before jumping back into the fray.

Like Victoria has predicted, the Aurors are here. “Stop this now!” one of them shouts. “By order of the Ministry of Magic!”

“The time for secrecy is over!” bellows a familiar voice. The Aurors cast a wind to clear the smoke a little bit. My mother stands in a group of NeoWalds, who send curses towards the Aurors. “The Muggles have oppressed wizardkind for far too long!” my mother shouts before sending a car flying. Victoria, who has remained by my side despite her desire to escape, and I run to steer clear of the influx of people headed our way to avoid the car.

I don’t see him in time. My foot catches onto someone’s leg, and I tumble down. Victoria screams, but it’s not because I’ve fallen. “Oh my God! James Potter!”

Bile rising in my throat, I turn to see if the body I tripped over belongs to him. A balding man’s face stares blankly at me. A sickening sense of relief overwhelms me; I glance up to Victoria, who’s looking terrified towards the figure who had been casting spells at us earlier. I stagger up to get a better look through the clearing smoke.

Sure enough, it’s James, in dark green robes, wand raised, readying to attack.

“James Potter! It’s James Potter!” calls an Auror from nearby. I try calling out, but my voice fails me.

He scans our group as some NeoWalds appear beside him. Even through the haze, I know that his gaze lands on me, but, with a jolt, I can’t read his expression. James sends a Stunning spell our way, but an Auror blocks it, which is good because I’m not able to move.

Suddenly, a third explosion sounds, and the building across the street from us collapses. Painful screams reverberate in my eyes, sending chills down my spine. My gaze quickly returns to James, who steps into the crowd of NeoWalds.

“Our work here is done!” shouts a NeoWald as Harry Potter pushes past me to get a closer look at his son. By the time we even have time to react to what has happened, the NeoWalds, including James, have Disapparated, leaving the street in smoky chaos.


End file.
